Last Resort
by 3rdgal
Summary: Tragedy strikes when the Eppes attend an out of town event.
1. Chapter 1 Present

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters and I don't make any money off of them.

**A/N:** Thanks as always to ritt, the world's best beta and sounding board! Goodness knows I'd never finish the multi-chapter stories without her help. And thanks to Sin for digging through her big book of ailments and helping me come up with this one.

"Shh," Charlie whispered. "It's alright." He blinked back tears as he stared down at the man cradled in his lap. Suddenly aware that the elevator was silent save for the injured man's harsh breathing, Charlie looked up at the man sitting next to him. "Dad? Are you okay?"

"Am I _okay_, Charlie?" Alan asked sarcastically. "Why yes, I'm just fine. Why wouldn't I be? I mean, we're in a wonderful situation here, aren't we?"

Alarmed at his father's tone and demeanor, the young man quickly answered, "Dad, please calm down!"

"How can you expect me to be calm-"

"Because Don needs you to be." Charlie kept his voice low – just above a whisper – but fixed his father with a meaningful look. Seeing the contrite expression on the older man's face, Charlie let his gaze trail back to his lap where he protectively cradled his injured brother. Don was pale and burning up with fever and he began restlessly moving his head back and forth. The professor ran his fingers through Don's damp hair in a desperate attempt to ease his brother's discomfort.

"I'm sorry," Alan suddenly whispered, although Charlie wasn't certain if he was speaking to him or Don.

"It's okay," Charlie told him. "I'm upset, too, but we need to stay strong and calm for Don's sake."

Alan nodded as he reached out and gently wiped away the trickle of blood coming from the corner of his firstborn's mouth. The older man let his hand remain on Don's cheek as he lightly stroked his thumb across the too hot skin. "So, Charlie," Alan whispered, making sure to keep his voice calm. "What are the odds of us getting out of here alive?"

Charlie swallowed nervously and remained silent. He had a pretty good idea, but he wasn't about to tell his father just how slim those odds were.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2 Three Days Earlier

**3 Days Earlier**

"Anybody home?" Don called as he let himself into Charlie's house.

"In here!" his little brother answered.

Don shed his jacket, hung it on the coat rack and joined his brother in the living room. The weary agent plopped down on the sofa, slouching against the cushions and letting his head loll on the back of the couch.

"Rough day?" Charlie asked sympathetically.

"Rough week," Don sighed as he loosened his tie. "Finally wrapped up that industrial espionage case today. Just have to finish up the reports tomorrow and make sure Robin's set to go on the case."

"Glad to hear it," Charlie smiled. "I really am sorry I couldn't help. Between classes, mid terms and Cousin Benny's thing-"

"Oh no," Don groaned as he covered his face with his hand. "That's this weekend, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Charlie replied. "Don't tell me you forgot."

Don mutely nodded.

Charlie's eyebrows arched skyward. "Dad told us about this, like, two weeks ago."

"I know," Don spoke as he clasped his hands and rested them on top of his head. "I've been so busy at work that I totally forgot." He sighed again, wincing slightly at the twinge of pain in his stomach.

"You okay, Don?" Charlie's voice was suddenly full of concern.

"Yeah, Buddy," Don forced out a small chuckle. "I'm just tired and hungry right now. To be honest, this week has run me ragged. I was planning on sleeping all weekend."

"Dad won't like that."

"I know," Don nodded. "Exactly how mad do you think he'd be if I told him I needed to skip out?"

"Furious, I'd say."

The two brothers looked up to find their father standing in the doorway. Don sat up a little straighter and Charlie started scribbling in his notebook again, happy to stay out of the impending argument.

"Donny, you know how I feel about Benny."

"I know, Dad," Don assured him. "But I really _am_ exhausted."

"Are you coming down with something?" Alan asked as he moved to place his hand on his oldest son's forehead.

"No," Don shook his head and blocked his father's hand. "Just tired."

"I know your job wears you out, but family is important," Alan told him. "And your cousin Benny has little enough familial support as it is. I really want you to go with your brother and me."

Don closed his eyes and schooled his features into a mask as another round of throbbing ignited in his stomach. _This is killer indigestion,_ he thought to himself.

"Did you hear what I just said?" Don looked up at his father and sheepishly shook his head. Alan sighed and repeated himself. "Benny was the first person that showed up offering comfort and support when we found out your mother was sick. He even beat you here."

"Dad," Don protested. "I had to make arrangements to relocate! I couldn't just leave."

"I know," Alan said. "I understand that and I didn't mean for it to sound like I was blaming you." He took a seat on the couch next to his son and locked gazes with him. "Benny was my rock in the early days – your mother's, too. This family owes him a lot of thanks and considering that no one else in our family cares to associate with him, it's very important to him that we go to his wedding."

Don held his father's gaze as he subtly rested his hand over his stomach and pressed down in an attempt to ease the ache. _If I just go, I can get out of the rest of this lecture. And he does have a point about Cousin Benny. Maybe a little R and R time at the resort will do me good – give me time to de-stress._

"Donny?" Alan asked as he fixed his son with an expectant stare.

"Okay," the agent nodded. "Count me in."

"Thank you, Donny. That means a lot to me – and Benny too." Alan grinned and patted Don's knee. "Who knows? You might even have fun."

"Yeah," Don said, forcing a smile on his face. "Maybe I will." _Although I seriously doubt it._

--

Don gasped and rolled over in bed, his right hand moving to apply pressure to his stomach. He lay there for a few minutes and attempted to breathe through the sharp, burning pain in his mid-section.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_ he wondered to himself as he tightened the pressure on his stomach. The pain finally began to lessen to the point that he could sit up. Blearily blinking the sleep from his eyes, Don glanced at the bedside clock and groaned. _Four a.m.? Oh man, I have to be at Charlie's by six!_

Deciding that sleeping was a lost cause, the agent climbed out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Don switched on the shower and glanced in the mirror as he waited for the water to warm up. He was dismayed to find large, dark circles under his eyes, knowing that his appearance would do one of two things – have his father playing mother hen or have his father giving him a lecture on the benefits of a good night's sleep. Grumbling in frustration, Don climbed under the steaming hot spray of water and let the welcoming warmth soothe his tense muscles. The stomach pain abated too, and the agent said a silent prayer of thanks, hopeful that if he felt well and acted well his father just might forego another lecture.

After several minutes, Don switched off the water and grabbed his towel. As he was returning to his bedroom, the stomach pain returned, although not as severe as before.

_This is really starting to get old. It's been going on for… three days now? Ever since we went to make the arrests on that last case. I guess all of the stress is giving me a bad case of indigestion? I hope that's all it is._

He threw on some clothes and padded into the kitchen, grabbing a carton of leftover Chinese and a roll of antacids. Don put on a pot of coffee and settled on the couch as the pleasant aroma began to drift through the apartment. Switching on the television, the agent flipped to ESPN and settled in to watch a rerun of Sports Center. The announcer was talking about a major bowling championship and Don suddenly found himself yawning. Before he realized it, he was drifting back to sleep…

_Ring!_

Don's eyes shot open as his cell phone shrilled. He sleepily stumbled to the entry table, grabbed his cell and flipped it open. "Hello?" he groggily answered.

"Donny!" his father's upset voice sounded in his ear. "Where are you?"

"At my apartment," Don stated. "Why are you calling so early?"

"So _early_? It's six-twenty!"

_That can't be right,_ Don thought to himself. He grabbed his watch from the table, his eyes growing wide as he confirmed his father's statement. "Oh no," Don groaned. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"I know you're not really eager about going," Alan began in a harsh tone. "But that's no reason to stand us up!"

"No, it's not that, Dad," Don promised him. "I couldn't sleep, and I woke up-"

"Couldn't sleep?" Alan repeated, his tone changing to one of concern. "Is this about Thursday night? Are you coming down with something?"

_So much for avoiding the mother hen routine._ "No, no, not at all." Don fumbled for words. "Say, have you ever been so tired that you couldn't sleep?"

"Yes, of course," his father replied. "You know, if you would actually try to get at least…"

Don silently sighed as his father rambled on about the benefits of a good night's sleep. _Way to go, Eppes. Dad hasn't even seen you, and you've already gotten the mother hen bit and the lecture._

"Donny!" his father called sharply.

"Sorry, Dad."

"I asked if you need to stay home."

The older man's tone was not lost on Don. It was the one that said, 'I'm giving you an option, but I don't really expect you to take it and I'll be incredibly disappointed if you do'.

Sighing again, Don forced a cheerful tone into his voice. "Of course not, Dad. Like you said – being tired is no excuse for skipping out on family, right?"

"Glad to hear it," Alan said, and Don could picture the smile on his face. "Hurry up and get over here as soon as you can. Remember – we have a seven hour road trip ahead of us."

"Right," Don said, relieved that he'd remembered to pack his bags the night before. Deciding he owed his father for running late and worrying him, he decided to lighten the mood. "Hey Dad."

"Yes?"

"Make sure Charlie goes to the bathroom before we leave." He grinned as he heard his father's exasperated grumble. "Oh and tell him I call shotgun."

Alan's mumbled reply was unintelligible except for the words 'couple of five year olds' before he hung up the phone.

--

"Wow, bro," Charlie greeted Don thirty minutes later. "You don't look so good."

"Shh!" Don whispered. "Keep your voice down. I don't want you getting Dad on my case."

"Really?" Charlie whispered back as he quirked an eyebrow. "Then you should have been on time."

Don rolled his eyes at his brother's teasing tone before playfully cuffing his head. "Seriously, help your big brother out here."

"You got it," Charlie assured him. "But…" He hesitated until Don fixed him with a quizzical stare. "_Are_ you okay?"

"I'm fine," the agent promised. "I just didn't sleep too well last night. Slept right through the alarm – that's why I was late." _Okay, so that's a small lie, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him._

"Oh? That's not normal for you, Don."

The older man chuckled and shook his head. "I had a long week, Charlie. I was just tired."

The professor glanced at the stairs and lowered his voice even further. "Are you sure you shouldn't stay home?"

"No, I'm fine, Buddy. Besides, Dad was right about Benny – he really _has_ been there for us when we needed him. I can't skip out on him." Seeing the unconvinced look on his little brother's face, Don gripped his shoulders and locked gazes with him. "Charlie, quit worrying, huh? This is supposed to be a joyous occasion!"

"Right," the young man replied, giving Don a weak smile.

"That's the spirit," Don said, although he wasn't feeling nearly as confident as he sounded. "Now, what do you say we help our old man with his luggage?"

--

The first half of the road trip was pure hell for Don. His stomach throbbed and he was so tired that all he wanted to do was curl up, rest his head on the cool glass and sleep until they reached Bridgeport. But his brother and father were too excited and talkative to give him a moment's peace, so Don found himself nodding at their conversation and throwing out the occasional one word responses.

"You're awfully subdued," Alan commented as they came to the next town on their route.

"Sorry, Dad. I guess-"

"He's probably just hungry," Charlie cut him off. "Right, Don?"

The agent smiled inwardly at his little brother's attempt to look out for him. "Yeah, Buddy. I think that's it."

"Well," Alan said as he pointed to the side of the road. "Here's a diner. What say we pull off and grab a bite?"

Don's stomach churned at the mention of food, but he didn't want to ruin Charlie's attempt to keep his dad from hassling him. "Sounds great."

Alan pulled the car into a parking space and the three men climbed out, each one stretching their stiff, cramped muscles.

"And we're only halfway there," Charlie grumbled.

"Charlie," Alan scolded. "Look on the bright side."

"What's that?"

"We're already halfway there!"

"Dad," the professor groaned as he rolled his eyes and led them into the diner. "That was so-"

"True," his father finished for him. "It's all in perception, my little genius."

Charlie gave a dramatic sigh and scooted into the booth next to his brother and across from his father. Don just chuckled at the two of them.

"And what's so funny, young man?" Alan raised an eyebrow. "How do you see it – only or already halfway?"

"I see it…" Don bit his lip and broke into a grin. "I say we're on the journey – the distance is irrelevant, for it is the journey itself from which we learn." At his family's baffled expressions, he grinned. "I saw some old Kung Fu rerun on TV the other night."

"Ah," Alan replied as he shook his head. "You really _haven't_ been sleeping then. So, Grasshopper, what are you having?"

"Funny," Don replied sarcastically. "Real funny, Dad."

A short while later the Eppes men had an assortment of empty plates strewn across the table between them as each man sat back and lamented having eaten too much. Don participated in the conversation, even though his plate still had half of his food left on it. Of course he'd done an excellent job of spreading it out so that it looked like there was less left than there actually was. His stomach began to burn and cramp and he lightly prodded Charlie's shoulder. "Let me out, bro."

"What?" Charlie asked as he looked at Don.

"I need the men's room," Don snapped. He immediately regretted the harshness of his voice, but he really needed to make it to the bathroom. Charlie slid out of the booth and Don awkwardly clambered out, making a hasty trail toward the back of the diner. Once he reached the old, wooden door, he shoved it open and made his way to the first stall, fell to his knees and proceeded to lose what little food he'd eaten. After a couple of minutes the sickness had passed and Don laid his head against the cool porcelain.

He was startled as something cool and damp pressed against the back of his neck. He tensed, but Charlie's voice quickly floated down from above, putting him back at ease. "Shh, let this sit there a minute."

"Thanks," he croaked as he wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. A wet paper towel was pressed into his palm and he smiled faintly as he wiped his face.

"Is this related to the not being able to sleep?"

"Think it was something I ate," Don lied.

"That fast? I don't know…"

"I'll be fine, Charlie."

"I'm going to get you a dictionary and show you the definition of that word one day very soon."

"Right," Don tried to laugh, but the word came out as a faint puff of air.

"You want me to bring your drink in here?"

"No," the kneeling man quickly replied, his hand clamping onto his little brother's wrist. "Dad'll be suspicious."

"He's going to be anyway when he finds out you threw up."

"But…" Don drawled as he just barely turned his head to look at his brother. "He's not going to know about this, right?"

"You expect me to keep this from him?" Charlie demanded in disbelief.

"You said you'd help," the older man pointed out. "Besides, I think it was just a touch of food poisoning. No big deal."

"Don."

"Charlie."

The young man opened his mouth, but immediately closed it with an impatient sigh. "Alright, but if you get sick again, I am telling. No arguments."

"Deal," Don nodded. "Thanks, Buddy."

"So, I'll go give Dad some excuse about what's taking you so long and you come out as soon as you can."

"Will do." Don watched as Charlie exited the small bathroom before standing up and flushing the toilet. His only thought as he watched the water swirl away was that he was glad he'd blocked Charlie's view of the blood, or he never would have agreed not to tell their father.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3 Present

**Present Day**

"This is my fault."

Alan looked up from his injured son to his youngest son's face. "Come again?"

"I… I knew he was sick."

"Charlie, we both thought he was sick, but Don kept telling us he was fine."

"No, I mean at the diner." Charlie licked his lips and met his father's stare. "He was… He was sick at the diner." As Alan continued to study him, the younger man spoke again. "In the bathroom, Dad. He'd thrown up. I wanted to tell you, but Don said not to."

"Right," Alan said knowingly. "That sounds like your brother, alright." Seeing the anguish on his youngest son's face, Alan reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Charlie. There are a lot of factors involved in how we got here. That may have played a role, but I pushed him to come on the trip. And," Alan paused as he stared back down at Don. "Donny didn't help himself any by not letting on about how sick he really was." Letting out a weary sigh, Alan let his head thump against the elevator wall. "No, Charlie, this isn't any one person's fault." _Although I'm definitely the most responsible party. Can't think about that now, though. We have to get out of here first._

"This is so frustrating," Charlie growled as he glared at the elevator doors. "To be able to see the way out, but not to be able to go."

"I know," Alan agreed. He stared at the doors, too, which Don and Charlie had managed to pry open right after the _incident_, and right before Don had collapsed. The elevator was stuck in the shaft, the lower six inches of the door opening to the floor below. Try as they might, neither of the men had been able to fit through the small opening and so they had been forced to sit and wait on help that Alan was beginning to suspect wasn't coming.

A low moan filled the elevator and Alan and Charlie both looked at the source of the sound.

"Donny?" Alan called softly as he cupped his son's cheek.

"Don?" Charlie called, his hand stilling in his brother's hair as he studied Don's fluttering eyelids. "Can you wake up for us?"

"…Hurts." Don's voice was a faint whisper, his brow furrowed in pain. "…Happened?"

"Don't you worry about that," Alan soothed, knowing he needed to keep Don calm. "You just let Charlie and me worry about everything, okay?"

"…'Kay."

Alan exchanged a worried glance with Charlie at the ease with which Don gave in. "Donny, can you answer some questions for me?"

"Try."

"I know you've been sick the past couple of days. Is it just your stomach?"

Don nodded and winced as his mid-section started throbbing again. He tried to roll onto his side and curl into a ball, but his father's hands were preventing him from doing so. "Hurts," he repeated.

"I know," Alan said as he caressed his oldest son's cheek. "It's better for you if you lie flat."

"Hurts," Don insisted as he weakly struggled against his father's grip. "Please, Dad."

"He's right, bro," Charlie chimed in. He had no idea if his father was or not, but he trusted him enough to do as he said. Slipping his hand into Don's clammy one, Charlie whispered, "Squeeze my hand if you need to." He let out a small smile as Don gave him a gentle squeeze to indicate he understood.

"You've been throwing up since we left home," Alan stated.

"Charlie… told."

"I had to, bro."

"…Know. S'okay."

"Was there anything unusual? Any blood?" Don remained silent and Alan sighed. "I'll take that as a yes. When was the first time you saw blood?"

"Diner."

"I know you said you haven't been sleeping well," Alan continued. "You're waking up in the middle of the night with stomach pain?"

Don's brows rose in surprise, though he kept his eyes closed. "Yeah. How… know that?"

"I think you have an ulcer, son. Your Uncle Ezekiel had one when he was your age."

"Hurts… bad?"

"Yes," Alan frowned as he patted his oldest son's cheek. "Some of the worst pain you'll ever feel, according to your uncle. Oh Donny, why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Family… can't let… down."

"I'm so sorry I guilted you into this trip, son. I never should have-"

Alan stopped speaking as Don weakly grabbed his wrist and squeezed. He slowly panted, "Not your fault. I should… said something." He forced his eyes open and tried to smile at his father. "Please… understand that."

"Shh," the older man whispered. "You just rest."

"Dad," Don insisted.

"Alright, Donny. I understand. Now, close your eyes and rest while we get some help, okay?"

"…Kay." The injured man let his eyes close, but he spoke again. "Charlie?"

"Right here, Don." The professor smoothed his hand over Don's hair.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," he promised his big brother.

"No guilt?"

"Sure," Charlie said, more to ease his brother's mind than anything else. "No guilt for me."

"Good," Don whispered as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4 One Day Earlier

**One Day Earlier**

Don couldn't believe it – they had finally made it to the hotel, up the elevator to their room, and he was heading for the bed. As he plopped down on it, he heard his father's half-amused, half-frustrated voice from the doorway.

"Go ahead, Donny – take your pick."

"Sorry," Don mumbled as he groaned and moved to stand up.

"No, that's okay," Alan told him, his tone contrite. "I'm a little cranky from all of the driving. I know you're tired." He glanced at his watch. "It's a little after three and we're expected at the welcome dinner at six-thirty. Why don't you grab a short nap?"

Don smiled and melted against the sheets. "Thanks, Dad."

"Hey," Charlie piped up. "Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"You'll share with your brother, of course."

"He kicks!" Charlie protested loudly. "Hard! Why can't I share with you?"

"Because a father has certain inalienable rights," Alan called as he walked into the bathroom. "And getting a bed to himself is one of them."

"Whatever," the professor mumbled as he sat on the bed next to his brother. "Scoot over."

"I was here first." Don's voice was muffled by his pillow.

"I want to lie down, too." Sighing, Charlie flopped on the bed, not thinking about the effect it would have on Don. Hearing his brother hiss in pain, he instantly apologized. "I'm so sorry, Don. I wasn't thinking-"

"It's okay," Don cut him off. "Keep your voice down though, remember?"

"Right," the younger man whispered. "Dad's in the bathroom so he didn't hear you."

"Good." Don grunted and shifted over to make room for Charlie. "Is that plenty of room?"

"Yes," Charlie said shamefully. "I'm so-"

"Quit apologizing," Don warned him. "Or I'll kick you for real."

"Meanie," Charlie grumbled as the two brothers quickly fell asleep.

--

"Up and at 'em!"

"What?" Don asked as he slowly opened his eyes.

"You too, Charlie," Alan's cheerful voice called. "Time to get ready for dinner."

"Five more minutes," Charlie mumbled without stirring under the covers.

"No," Alan said as he yanked the covers away. "Get up now!"

The two brothers mumbled in protest, but groggily obeyed their father. Don managed to beat Charlie to the bathroom and was thrilled beyond words that he wasn't sick again. He finished and opened the door to find Charlie hovering nearby in full mother hen mode.

"Are you okay?" Charlie whispered, his voice low enough that Alan couldn't overhear.

"I'm fine, buddy. Not even sick that time."

"Good," the younger man beamed, all of the worry lines dissolving from his features. Don's heart warmed at his brother's concern until Charlie spoke again. "Now I can kick you back tonight and not feel badly about it."

"Smart aleck," Don shot back as Charlie disappeared into the bathroom.

As Don opened his suitcase and got his suit out, his father started speaking.

"Remember, Benny's going to be a little nervous. Marriage is a big step and he's looking for all of the support he can get."

"I know, Dad."

"That's why he's paying for our rooms, you know. He wants us very close by."

"I know. I just wish we could have had more than one room." Don eyed the small sleeping area. "Or a better hotel."

"Hey," Alan gently chided. "Benny's doing the best he can. This place has the potential to be a great vacation resort one day. It's just in the very early stages right now. Think of it as your chance to say, 'I was there when…'"

"'…The rooms were small, dim, cramped and service was sorely lacking.'"

"Donny!"

"Sorry, Dad. I guess I'm a little cranky, too."

"Well, just make sure you aren't when we're downstairs at the dinner. Or tomorrow at the wedding."

"I'll be on my best behavior, Dad. I promise."

"That's not saying much," Charlie ribbed him as he exited the bathroom.

"Now who's getting kicked tonight?" Don growled.

"Boys!" Alan cut in, rolling his eyes, but secretly enjoying their banter. "Are we ready for dinner?" When his two sons nodded, Alan made a grand gesture to the door. "Then let's go."

The three men walked down the hall and climbed into the hotel's sole elevator. Don and Charlie both wrinkled their noses at the musty smell until their father gave them a warning look.

"What?" Don asked innocently. "It _does _have an odd smell."

"It used to be a service elevator back in the day," Charlie pointed out. "Still doesn't look like much more than that now."

"Will you two stop complaining?" Alan snapped. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll tell Benny we may look for another hotel room tonight. That ours is too crowded or something."

"Or something?" Charlie repeated sarcastically. "But it _is_ too crowded."

As the elevator came to a stop, Alan raised a finger and pointed it back and forth between his sons. "Seriously, not one single complaint tonight from either one of you. Got it?"

"Sure, Dad," Don grinned.

"Best behavior," Charlie added as he winked at his brother.

Alan sighed and shook his head. "Why don't I believe either one of you?"

The three men exited the elevator and walked through the main hallway until they reached the mid-sized banquet hall. Though the banquet hall was the main room that the resort bragged about, it was no brighter or more impressive than the small rooms upstairs.

"I guess this will improve over time, too," Don mumbled as he pasted a smile on his face.

"Donny," Alan growled, his tone low and threatening.

"Alan!" Benny jubilantly cried. "Don! Charlie! I am so glad to see you!" The large, vibrantly dressed man rushed to Alan and enveloped him in a huge bear hug, before repeating the gesture with both Don and Charlie. "So, how was the drive? Not too bad, I hope."

"No," Alan assured him as he smiled warmly. "Nothing like a good road trip to encourage a little father-son-brother bonding."

"Right," Benny winked. "Was that the case boys?"

"Um," Charlie playfully teased. "Sure."

Benny gave a hearty laugh and clapped the young man on the shoulder. "You always were an honest guy, Chuck."

Don fought back a grin as their cousin used Charlie's most despised nickname. The smile quickly disappeared as Benny spoke to him. "Donny here was always more diplomatic."

"Guilty as charged," the agent replied, biting his tongue at the use of a nickname he only allowed his father to get away with. "Where is the lovely bride to be?"

"She's upstairs," his cousin replied. "You know how women are at formal events. She couldn't come down until she was perfect. I told her she was perfect in my book, no matter what."

"Smooth," Charlie chuckled.

"Yeah. So smooth that she told me to hush and wait for her down here."

"You have a lot to learn about marriage my friend," Alan said as he shook his head. "And these two young men are not the best to consult on the matter."

"Still fending off the gorgeous women, huh boys?" Benny laughed as he winked. "Just don't wait too long." He flagged down a waiter and made sure the three Eppes had each accepted a glass of champagne. "How is the room?"

"It's very nice," Alan answered. "It's just a little on the small side for the three of us."

"I tried to get another room, but the resort is in the process of renovating over half of the rooms. The rest of them I'd already booked for other guests. Is it too uncomfortable? There's another hotel about ten miles up the road. I'm sure they have a lot of vacancies in the off season."

"Thanks," Alan replied. "We may look into that tonight. I just don't think the three of us can manage in one room. I don't want to sound ungrateful-"

"Alan," Benny interrupted, his tone switching from light-hearted to serious. "You're family. And the only family that came. I would never think such a thing about you. Go – with my blessing – if you feel that you need bigger or more rooms."

"Thanks for understanding, Benny."

"Family," he repeated with a shrug and a grin. His eyes suddenly lit up and he let out a low whistle as petite brunette entered the room. "Gentlemen, if you'll come with me – I'd like to introduce you to my _perfect_ bride to be."

--

Don woke suddenly to an all-too-familiar burning pain in his stomach. _Dammit,_ he swore silently. _I just want this to go away._ He rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball, idly studying the cramped, darkened hotel room, when something thing occurred to him. _Weren't we going to another hotel?_ Don unconsciously wiped a layer of sweat from his brow as he tried to remember. _We met Benny's future wife, ate, drank, and were merry, and then… We came back up to the room and I wasn't feeling good. I… lay down for a quick nap?_ He looked at the small, hotel room clock and his mouth parted in surprise. _Two-thirty? In the morning?_

Don quickly glanced to the other bed, his face breaking into a small grin as he saw his father and brother lying next to each other, Alan with the lion's share of the bed, but Charlie hogging all the covers. _Man, I must have been really out of it if Dad agreed to share a bed with Charlie._

Another sharp pain drew a faint gasp from Don and he quickly – and as quietly as possible – made his way into the bathroom. He softly pushed the door behind him until it clicked shut before turning on the light and sagging to the floor, propped up between the toilet and the tub. He took several slow, deep breaths, desperately trying to fight off the nausea churning in his stomach. Finally managing to stave off his sickness, Don laid his head on the cool porcelain of the toilet lid and closed his eyes. He felt utterly drained and wasn't even sure if he could muster up enough energy to go back to bed.

A knock at the door surprised him, followed by his father's soft voice. "Donny?"

Don started to push himself up off the floor, but his arms gave out and he landed hard on his rear, his elbow slamming into the tub and causing him to grunt in pain.

"_Donny?_" Alan called in concern as he pushed open the door.

_Crap! I forgot to lock it…_

"Oh my God, Donny," Alan whispered in shock as he took in his son's appearance before kneeling by his side. "What's wrong?"

"Couldn't sleep," the sick man mumbled, knowing his father wouldn't buy the lame response, but not knowing what else to say.

"I would think not," Alan remarked dryly. "It would be kind of hard to sleep on a cold, tile floor, wedged between bathroom fixtures like this."

"Funny," Don groaned through a yawn.

"Actually," his father said as his voice grew somber again. "I don't think this situation is funny at all." Alan gently laid a hand on his son's forehead and, much to Don's dismay, he found he didn't have the energy to bat it away. "My God, you're burning up!"

As if his father's words had driven the feeling home, Don suddenly felt even more drained before. His father's hand felt so cool and compassionate and the agent found himself leaning into the touch. Deciding that perhaps discretion was the better part of valor, Don softly whispered, "I don't feel so good, Dad."

Alan's heart broke as he realized how bad Don must be feeling to make a confession like that. Conspicuously glancing at the closed toilet lid, his father asked, "Do you still feel sick?"

"A little," Don admitted. "Not like before, though."

"You think you're okay to lie down again?"

"I hope." Don started to stand, but his father placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me help you." Alan then slid his hands under Don's arms and carefully lifted upwards, stabilizing his oldest son as he swayed. Once Don was standing, Alan slipped an arm around his waist and draped Don's arm around his shoulders. "Nice and slow, Donny."

"Wait," Don suddenly protested. "We'll wake Charlie."

"Are you kidding?" Alan joked. "You know how your brother sleeps. An earthquake could bring this building down around us and he wouldn't even stir."

"Right," Don chuckled as he let his father lead him to the bed. "Let's not tell him then. I don't want him to worry." _Actually, I don't want the two of you comparing notes and ganging up on me._

Don leaned against the wall, trying to ignore the throbbing in his stomach as his father moved the covers to the foot of the bed. He was so intent on blocking out the pain that his father's quiet voice startled him.

"In you go, Donny." Together they managed to get the weary man into the bed and Alan pulled the covers just high enough so that Don could reach them if he became chilled.

Don wearily wiped at the sweat on his brow as his father returned to the bathroom. He heard the sound of running water and a few minutes later Alan was at his side again, slipping a hand under his son's head and lifting him up. Two pills were pressed into the younger man's hand and he heard his father's command to take them. Don obeyed, popping the pills in his mouth as a glass of water materialized in front of his face. He took it and swallowed the cool liquid, then handed the glass back to his father who then tenderly lowered Don's head back to the pillow.

"That'll help the fever," Alan soothed as he laid an ice cold cloth on his son's brow. He reached out and smoothed Don's spiky hair, smiling warmly as Don's heavy-lidded eyes watched him. "Just rest, Donny. Tomorrow morning we'll see how you feel."

Don nodded and closed his eyes, a subtle smile spreading across his face as he felt his father sit on the bed next to him. The older man's fingers began threading through his hair and Don let himself drift away. His last thought was that Charlie had slept through everything he and Alan had been doing. _I bet he really would sleep through an earthquake._

Neither Don nor Alan knew how much they would soon regret that thought…

TBC


	5. Chapter 5 Present

**Present**

_I never should have made you come this weekend,_ Alan quietly mused as he gently wiped at the sweat on Don's brow. _I know I pushed too hard and I hope you can forgive me, Donny._

"He's getting warmer," Charlie's whisper shattered the silence of the cramped elevator.

"He is," Alan replied for lack of anything better to say.

"I wish we had something for him – pain pills, water… anything."

"Me too." Sensing his youngest son's need to talk to keep his worry and anxiety at bay, Alan gave him a weak smile. "At least he's not alone."

"For all the good we're doing him," Charlie mumbled in despair.

Alan slipped a finger under the young man's chin and lifted his face until their eyes met. "We _are_ helping him. Our voices, our touch, our presence – that's why he's resting… relatively peacefully."

Charlie looked down at his big brother and softly massaged his shoulder. He watched as the creases of pain around his brother's eyes eased up. "I guess we are at that," he smiled back at his father. "I just feel so helpless. And I keep thinking, 'What if…'"

"You can't think like that, Charlie," his father insisted. "I know you like the numbers – cold, hard data – but this is your brother we're talking about. He's defied odds before, right?"

Charlie winced at the reference to the bank robber who had taken a point blank shot at Don a couple of years ago. "Yes, but how many times can he defy the odds?"

"As many as it takes," Alan firmly stated.

Charlie opened his mouth to respond when a low rumbling sound began to fill the air. "Oh no," he breathed, even as the elevator cab began to screech and vibrate.

"Aftershock," Alan whispered. "Quick! Make sure we have Don supported between us!" Although he knew that they would more than likely not survive a fall down the elevator shaft, Alan was determined to make sure they kept Don as safe as possible in the event some miracle happened and they lived to tell the tale.

The two men lifted Don's upper body off the floor – eliciting a weak groan of pain from the agent – and leaned him against the wall. Charlie and Alan each took a seat on either side of Don, tightly sandwiching his torso between them.

"What?" the injured man whispered as his eyes fluttered open.

"Shh," Alan soothed as he tightened his arms around his oldest son's shoulders, nodding for Charlie to grab hold of Don's waist. "We've got you."

The rumbling grew louder and Don's eyes clouded with confusion. "What's happening?" he rasped.

"Nothing," Alan answered as he forcibly kept any hint of fear from his voice. "Just rest, okay?"

"…That sound?" Don's voice was growing fainter as his strength began to fade.

Before either his father or brother could respond, the world fell out from below them and they were falling down the shaft.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6 Earlier That Day

**Earlier That Day**

Don woke up, happy to find that the pain in his gut had calmed down to a bearable, dull ache. He sleepily blinked his eyes and looked at the alarm clock. _Eleven-thirty? Benny's wedding is at two. We still have plenty of time to make it._

"Donny?"

Don rolled over onto his back and saw his father's concerned face hovering over him. "Dad," he yawned.

"How are you feeling?" Alan asked, keeping his voice low so that Charlie wouldn't overhear him.

"Better," Don said with a smile. "Wedding's on, I'd say."

His father's face creased with worry. "I don't know… You were pretty sick last night."

"It comes and goes, Dad. I'll be fine during the afternoon." Don pushed himself to a seated position, leaning against the headboard. "Besides, I don't want to let Benny down."

"Actually," the older man spoke as he perched on the side of the bed. "I told Benny that you weren't feeling well and that we'd be leaving early this morning. But you were sleeping so well, I didn't want to wake you up."

"Dad!" Don exclaimed in disbelief. "But you said family-"

"I know what I said," Alan cut him off. "And then I thought about how I'd twisted your arm to come, when you were obviously not well."

"You didn't twist anything, Dad. I'm fine now." Spotting the hesitation written across his father's face, Don fixed him with a firm look. "I _want_ to go."

After a moment, Alan let out a deep sigh. "I don't think that's a good idea, but I'll make you a deal."

"What's that?"

"You eat some lunch and make sure it sits okay. If it does, then we'll go."

Don nervously considered that he would almost certainly get sick if he ate, but he wasn't one to back down from a challenge. "Deal."

"Good," his father grinned. "I don't want to call Benny and get his hopes up, so we'll just surprise him if we go. In the meantime I'll call room service and get us some lunch. That way you can rest a little more."

"Thanks." As his father stood, Don quickly grabbed his sleeve. "Hey, what'd you tell Charlie?"

"Don't worry," Alan assured him. 'I didn't tell him you were sick. I told him I was."

"Oh," Don whispered. _Of course Charlie already knows I'm sick,_ Don thought to himself. _Now he thinks Dad's sick, too? Poor guy's going to be scared to death of catching whatever he thinks we have. I may have to have some fun with that._

All traces of humor left Don's thoughts a few moments later as the food arrived and Alan handed him a bowl of soup. His stomach lurched, but he pasted a smile on his face as he slowly sipped the hot liquid. He sensed two pairs of eyes on him and looked up to find his father and brother both watching him with concern.

"Tastes good," He told them as he grinned and gulped down another spoonful. "Aren't you two eating, too?" He silently laughed as they made a conscious effort to focus on their own lunches.

Don finished the bowl and stretched his arms over his head, wincing as his joints popped loudly. "It'll be nice to go back home to a decent bed," he muttered as he stood and pulled a clean pair of boxers from his suitcase. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to grab a shower."

"Leave the door open," Alan quickly ordered.

"What?" Don asked, glancing at Charlie and then giving his father a pointed look.

"In case we need to go to the bathroom," Alan quickly added.

"Not open, but unlocked," Don offered as he slipped into the small room and closed the door behind him.

He turned on the hot water and stripped out of his clothes – the same clothes he'd worn to the dinner the night before. Slipping into the shower, Don leaned his head against the tile wall and let the hot water pound against his aching muscles. Eventually the stress and tension of the past couple of days – no, past couple of weeks – seemed to fade from his body. He'd just grabbed the shampoo when the nausea hit again. Don stumbled from the tub – dripping wet – and fell to his knees in front of the toilet. As he gave into the nausea, he barely registered the sound of the door opening, followed by his father's voice.

"Donny?"

The sick man quickly reached out a shaky hand and flushed the contents before his father could see the blood in the bowl. His father's hand – cool and gentle – rested on the back of his neck.

"I think the wedding's off," the older man whispered.

Don nodded, not caring about anything except the pain in his stomach. "Think you're right."

"Don?" Charlie's alarmed voice called from the doorway.

"I'm okay, Buddy. Just felt a little dizzy." _Wow, lying to two family members is getting hard to do. I should probably come clean, but I couldn't survive both of them in full mother hen mode._

"Help me get him into bed," Alan told his youngest son.

"Wait a minute," Don protested as he shrugged out from under Alan's hand. "At least let a guy dry off and get dressed first."

Alan rolled his eyes, but nodded toward Charlie. "Pull down the covers and make sure the bed is ready." As the professor disappeared, Alan looked down at his son. "Let me help you dry off."

"Dad…"

"Donny," he whispered softly. "Look at your hands. See how badly they're shaking?"

Don did as his father said, his eyes growing wide at the tremors coursing through his hands. "Okay," he relented.

He closed his eyes and felt the soft towel drape over his head, followed by a gentle massage as his father dried his hair. The towel worked its way down his neck and chest before lightly skating across his sensitive stomach.

"I'll let you finish up," Alan said as he pressed the soft towel into his son's hand. "Let me know when you're done, and I'll help you to bed."

Don nodded his thanks to his father, both for his help and for allowing him privacy in finishing the task. When he was done, the agent wearily stood and fumbled with his boxers. Once he was dry and clothed, he called his father.

Charlie and Alan appeared in the doorway and each slipped one of Don's arms across their shoulders. Hating to be a burden, Don flushed red. "Sorry about this," he mumbled in embarrassment.

"Can't help it if you're sick," Charlie pointed out.

Don was too weak to respond and was more than thankful when they had him laid out on the hotel room bed. His father pulled the covers over him and Don started to push his hands away until he remembered he was practically naked and would probably get cold soon. "Thanks."

"You rest," Alan commanded. "In a little while – if you're feeling well enough – we'll head home." The older man added under his breath, "Or to the nearest hospital."

"No," Don mumbled. "I'm not that sick. Just tired. I'll be fine after a nap."

"We'll see," Alan replied, unwilling to let his son's stubbornness win out over his fatherly instincts.

Don tried to relax and drift off to sleep, but the throbbing ache in his stomach was having no part of that plan. After thirty minutes, Don pushed himself up in bed and found his father and brother playing cards on the neighboring bed. He quietly cleared his throat and smiled.

"How are you feeling?" his father asked.

"Not great," he admitted, knowing partial honesty was the only way to keep his father from taking him straight to the nearest hospital. "But well enough that we can get on the road."

"Okay," Alan agreed. "You stay put and let us pack, okay?"

"Get out of packing?" Don joked weakly. "I'm not arguing with that."

"Right," Charlie snorted. "All part of your master plan, I suppose."

"You do have a very wise older brother," Don shot back.

"More like stubborn as an-"

"Boys," Alan playfully scolded. "How about we get on the road before the real name calling starts?"

The next thing Don was aware of was his brother's hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking him awake. "Don? Time to go."

"I fell asleep?" Don wondered aloud.

"Only for a few minutes," Charlie told him as he handed Don a pair of track pants and a long sleeve tee shirt. "Need help?"

"Nah, I got it." As Don got dressed, he noticed his father was missing and then saw the closed bathroom door. "Dad?" he asked as he nodded toward the door.

"Yeah," Charlie replied. "He's not really sick, is he? He was covering for you because he thought I didn't know?"

"Don't tell him that," Don whispered. "I thought it was a nice gesture on his part and I don't want his feelings getting hurt." He struggled to pull the tee on over his head and sighed as he felt Charlie grab the shirt and pull it down. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Alan emerged from the bathroom and smiled at his oldest son. "You ready?"

"You bet," Don answered.

Charlie grabbed his suitcase and Don's while Alan grabbed his suitcase and Don's arm. At Don's warning look, Alan cocked his head and firmly stated, "I don't want you falling down, Donny, and that's exactly what you look like you might do any minute. Humor me."

"Whatever," Don muttered as he let his father guide him from the room. The threesome walked down the empty tenth floor toward the building's lone elevator.

"I still can't believe there's nobody else staying in this hotel other than Cousin Benny's wedding guests," Charlie remarked as they reached the elevator and pressed the down button.

"I know," Alan said. "Feels like a ghost town now, with everybody gone to the ceremony."

"Well, with all of the renovations going on, it's not that surprising is it?" Don chimed in, trying to keep his mind off the constant pain in his belly. "I mean, the hotel's capacity is a third what it normally is and Cousin Benny's guests filled up the rooms that were available."

"True," Charlie nodded. "But that doesn't make it seem any less strange."

The elevator chimed and Charlie held the door for his father and brother. Once they were safely inside, he slipped in with the suitcases, dropping them to the floor with a sigh. "I don't know what you packed, Don, but that thing is heavy!"

"Wuss," Don teased.

Charlie just rolled his eyes as he pressed the button for the first floor.

"At least it was the lower levels being renovated," Alan commented as the elevator began its slow journey downward. "I have to say, the view from the upper floors was great."

"I still say the rooms need to be bigger and brighter," Don commented.

"Well, we'll just say that this wasn't the best trip we've ever taken," Alan stated. "How's that?"

"Truer words were never-"

Don's voice was drowned out in a loud, rumbling noise. The elevator's lights flickered before going out and a terrifying screeching noise echoed through the elevator shaft. The three men looked up at the ceiling in alarm, each one praying the elevator wasn't about to plummet to the earth. The rumbling increased and the high pitched sound of metal on metal filled the small area, bringing the cab to a sudden halt and sending the three men crashing to the floor. The rumbling slowly faded away, leaving the elevator silent except for the heavy breathing of its occupants.

"Everybody okay?" Don asked, suppressing the urge to curl into a ball and give into the increasing pain in his gut.

"I'm okay," Alan answered. "Charlie?"

"Um, a little unnerved, but physically fine."

"Good," Don mumbled as he struggled to his feet in the darkness of the elevator. He was feeling along the wall for the emergency call button, when the lights blinked back on. "Thank God for generators," he mumbled.

Charlie materialized at his side, frowning as he studied his big brother's appearance. "Don? Are you okay?"

"Fine," Don replied distractedly as he realized the emergency button wasn't working. "Guess that's what you should expect in a place like this."

"No?" Alan sighed, letting his head bang against the cab. "No way to call for help?"

Don checked his cell and shook his head. "No signal. Of course, as remote and mountainous as this area is, that's no surprise."

"So," Charlie said as he nervously bit his lip. "What now?"

"We need to get out of here," his brother told him. "My guess is that was an earthquake."

"Right," Alan agreed. "And that means we can probably expect aftershocks very shortly."

"So we definitely need to get out of here." Don stood in front of the doors and ran his fingers down the crack, checking for any sign that the doors might be damaged. "What floor were we on when it stopped? Do either of you know?

"I think it was the sixth floor," Charlie replied.

"That's one of the floors being renovated," Don thought aloud. "Let's hope elevator access isn't blocked off like the public stairwells are." He gently grabbed Charlie's shoulder and pulled him to his side. "Grab that side of the door and – on my signal – help me pry them open." Once his brother was in place, Don nodded. "Go!"

The two men heaved, throwing all of their strength into it, and the doors slowly began to slide apart. "Keep going!" Don yelled, his voice strained from the effort of their task. Finally they got the doors opened wide enough to exit if…

"We're between floors," Charlie sighed in frustration. "The elevator passed six, but got stuck before we were actually on five."

"Look at the lower six inches of the cab," Alan observed. "You can see the top of the doors for the fifth floor."

"Even if we can pry those open, none of us can fit through there," Charlie pointed out. "And it's a vacant floor, so no one will be around to hear us call for help."

Don looked at his anxious brother and mustered up a reassuring smile. "One thing at a time, okay Charlie? Let's get this next set of doors open and see where that gets us."

Charlie nodded, although his eyes were still full of doubt. "Whatever you say, Don."

The two men grabbed the doors as they had before and, on Don's signal, they again threw their weight into it. Because of the awkward position and angle the brothers had, the doors were barely moving at all.

"Give it all you've got!" Don called out as he strained every muscle in his body right up to its breaking point. Just as the doors opened wide enough to allow light from the fifth floor to filter through, Don felt an agonizing stabbing sensation rip through his mid-section. _What the hell…?_ He let go of the door and grabbed his stomach, doubling over as he toppled onto his side. A loud moan of pain filled the elevator and it took him a minute to figure out the sound was coming from him.

"Don!"

"Donny!"

He opened his mouth to answer, but the white-hot pain was crushing his lungs, preventing him from getting any air. Now terrified, Don tried in earnest to say something – anything – but all his mouth could do was open and close soundlessly. He was vaguely aware of hands on his body; on his shoulder and face, on his hands, trying to pry them away from his stomach. He weakly resisted, certain that if he moved his hands his entire body would be torn in two from the torturous sensation.

"Stop fighting us, Donny. We're trying to help."

Don nodded, but he couldn't make himself let go of his stomach, which was now being bombarded by a burning, acidic pain. A wave of nausea hit him and he moaned in distress, relieved when a pair of hands lifted his head and tilted it downward. Wave after wave of agony pounded through his veins as he threw up everything that was in his stomach. When he was done, he let his head lie limply in the hands that supported it.

"Oh my God, Donny. Why didn't you say something sooner?"

The hands fighting with his disappeared and moved to his face. One of them rested on his brow while the other wiped his lips with a piece of fabric.

"Is… Is that… blood?"

_Sorry, Charlie,_ Don thought through the haze of pain._ I_ _didn't want to scare you like this._

"Help me turn him over."

Don bit his lip as he was rolled onto his back, igniting the pain in his stomach and causing stars to dance in front of his eyes. He could barely make out Charlie's face hovering above him and tried to give him a reassuring smile, but failed miserably.

"Oh Donny," Alan whispered as he bowed his head, fighting with the overwhelming sense of hopelessness invading his mind.

Don wanted to reach out to his father – to let him know he was still alive and kicking – but he was too tired for even that one simple gesture. His head and shoulders were once again lifted before being lowered onto something soft and warm. _Charlie's lap?_ he wondered. His suspicion was confirmed as a hand began running through his hair, followed by his brother's soft, "Shh. It's alright."

_No it's not, Charlie. This isn't even in the same neighborhood as alright._

As darkness rose to claim him, he heard his brother's voice once more, "Dad? Are you okay?"

TBC


	7. Chapter 7 Present

**Present**

No sooner than the elevator had started its rapid descent, than the emergency brakes had managed to bring it to another sudden halt. The three passengers had landed hard on their backsides, Don letting out a strangled cry before passing out.

"Look!" Charlie yelled, excitedly gesturing at the doors.

Alan obeyed and said a quick prayer as he saw that the elevator had dropped to the point that there was a gap of about two and a half feet between the cab and the fifth floor.

"We can squeeze out of here now," Charlie exclaimed as he climbed to his feet and pulling his father up with him. The two carefully gripped Don's arms and pulled him to the door.

"You go out and I'll hand him down to you," Charlie said, not wanting his father or brother to be in the death trap any longer than necessary.

"I know what you're trying to do, but no. You're stronger than I am, so you'll have to be the one who catches him down there." Seeing that Charlie was about to argue, Alan yelled in his firmest voice, "Right this minute, Charles Edward Eppes!"

The young man immediately obeyed, feeling like he was a little kid again. He slid through the opening and dropped the few feet to the floor. Quickly standing back up, he stretched as far as he could and grabbed his brother's feet as Alan began sliding Don through the open doors.

"Careful, Charlie," Alan cautioned as he felt gravity pulling on Don. "I'm going as slow as I can, but be ready to catch him."

"I am," Charlie answered as he worked his grip up to Don's knees.

"I'm letting go," his father advised him and Charlie was soon bearing all of his brother's weight, just managing to steer them into an ungraceful tangle of limbs on the floor. Charlie freed himself and placed Don in a more comfortable position, turning to help his father out and instead watching as Alan landed hard on his feet.

"Are you okay, Dad?"

"This old body isn't as flexible or durable as it used to be," he muttered in response. "But I'll be fine. Let's get away from the elevator shaft."

"Good idea," the professor agreed as he and his father pulled Don further into the hallway.

As if on cue, another aftershock roared to life, and the elevator screeched and then dropped like a stone. Seconds later the rumbling was drowned out by a thunderous boom and a plume of debris-filled smoke shot up the shaft and out of the open doors. Charlie and Alan both instinctively covered Don's body with theirs, grimacing as small splinters and other particulates rained down on them.

The aftershock died away, leaving the three men in the hallway – one unconscious and the other two shell-shocked and covered in dust.

"What now?" Charlie asked numbly.

"Now," Alan sighed as he stared at Don's pale features, "We find our way out of here."

--

Charlie carefully made his way through the dim hallway. Sometime between them getting trapped in and then freed from the elevator, the hotel generator had given up the ghost, leaving the long hall lit only by the fading daylight coming through the windows at either end. The hotel was divided into four quadrants of rooms, sectioned off by the intersection of a north-south and east-west hallway. The elevator was located on the north end of the building, and Charlie had left his father and brother there while he searched for a usable exit. The west and east hallways had ended in stairwell doors that were chained and padlocked shut, as public access had been restricted to the renovated areas. Now, as Charlie moved closer toward the end of the east hall, he prayed that he would find these doors free from similar obstructions.

Reaching his goal, his heart soared at the absence of chains. The professor took a deep breath as he reached for the handle and pushed… almost screaming with joy as the door opened. He poked his head through the doorway and peered as far as he could from his position by the door, unwilling to let it close and possibly find himself locked in the stairwell. Deciding that the stairs looked fine, if not a little worn, he stepped back into the hall. Charlie slipped out of his jacket and, ignoring the chill in the air, wadded it up and propped the door open.

The young man smiled at both his discovery and his ingenuity, before turning back the way he'd come and racing back to his father and brother.

--

Alan couldn't tear his eyes away from Don's face. The normally handsome features were marred by lines of pain and dark shadows circling the eyes, and – most disturbing of all – a thin line of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. Alan used his sleeve to wipe it away, frowning as another drop trickled from Don's lips. His suspicion that Don had an ulcer combined with the amounts of blood coming from his mouth worried Alan to no end. He prayed that Don wasn't bleeding internally from any sort of rupture or perforation, but he couldn't help but suspect that was what was happening.

"Dad?"

Alan almost jumped out of his skin as Don's eyes slid open and he called his name. "I'm here, Donny," he whispered as he gently rubbed his son's forehead.

"Charlie?"

"He's here, too. Well, he's looking for help right now, but he'll be back."

"Quake?"

"I'm afraid so. A couple of nasty aftershocks, too."

"Not safe for Charlie to be looking around."

"Shh," Alan whispered as he tenderly wiped at Don's mouth again. "He'll be careful."

"Right," Don painfully sighed. "Why don't I believe that?"

"He will, Donny."

The injured man gave his father a doubtful look. His face suddenly bunched in a look of distaste. "My mouth tastes bad. Did I bite my lip?"

_Oh God,_ Alan thought to himself_. I certainly hope so!_ "Let me look." The older man gently parted Don's lips and looked inside. "Oh, Donny, you poor thing. You bit your tongue." _Thank God that's the source of the blood. Now I can stop worrying. Well, not worry as much._

"Water?" Don asked hopefully.

"Not at the moment. Soon, son."

"Okay." Don grimaced and his eyes started to close.

"Donny? Stay with me, please."

"Hurts," Don growled in frustration as he forced his eyes back open. "Really bad."

His father nodded and smoothed a hand through the dark hair. "I know, but when Charlie comes back we're going to have to try to get out of here. It'll be easier on everyone if you're awake for that."

"I'll try."

"I found an exit!" Charlie yelled as he rushed around the corner of the hall. "The east stairs are open!"

"Thank God," Alan sighed. "Did you hear that, Donny?"

"Good news," the injured man answered.

"Don?" Charlie beamed. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Better, now that I know we can get out of this place."

"I couldn't agree with you more, bro." Charlie knelt by his side and helped Don sit up. He and Alan both draped one of Don's arms over their shoulders and slowly stood, lifting the agent between them. Don couldn't quite suppress a hiss of pain as he was lifted to his feet.

"Hang in there," Alan soothed. "We'll go nice and slow."

"I'm good," Don told him. "Let's go."

The three men slowly trekked down the hallway, Alan glancing at Don every few feet. His oldest son was growing even paler and his face shone with sweat – both from fever and exertion – despite the coolness of the air. Several times Don failed to pick up his feet and the toe of his shoe would catch on the carpet, sending a jolt of pain through his body.

"You're doing great," Alan encouraged. "Just a little bit farther."

"I know," Don panted.

"Shh, no talking. Just concentrate." Alan watched as Don nodded and stared at his feet as if by just looking at them, he could make them obey his commands. "If you need to take a breather, let me know."

"I will, Dad." Alan noticed that Don continued to stare at his feet, refusing to look up at how far away their goal still was.

They reached their destination and Alan chuckled as he saw the jacket acting as a door stop. "Very clever," he complimented Charlie as they stepped into the stairwell. "Now, put it back on before you get too cold." He gathered Don against him and held him steady while his youngest son quickly slipped his jacket on.

"Stairs?" Don asked wearily as he leaned his head against his father's shoulder. "I'm not sure…"

"You'll be fine," Alan stated firmly. "Just let me and Charlie do all of the work."

"Yeah, you lazy bum," Charlie teased as he draped his brother's arm back over his shoulders. "And just remember – you're going to owe us big time for this."

"I know," Don said, his voice serious. "Very big time."

The three men began a very slow and cautious journey down the stairs. They got as far as the fourth floor when Alan halted their movement. He silently eyed the stairs below, his architect's eye catching little things – a crack, a slight unevenness, a missing patch of paint – that all made him question their stability.

"What is it?" Charlie asked.

"I don't think we should keep going."

"They look fine to me."

"Yes," Alan patiently replied. "But who's the architect in the family?"

"How about I test them?" Charlie suggested.

"I'd really prefer you not do that."

Charlie pointedly looked at Don, whose head wearily sagged against his chest. "Desperate times," he whispered.

"Fine," Alan relented. "But be very careful." The older man again gathered Don against him and held him tight as he watched his youngest son test the next step.

"Feels okay." Charlie moved his foot to the next one. "Still good." As he moved his foot toward the third, the step bearing his weight cracked and sent him diving upward and grabbing onto the railing. He managed to pull himself up to the landing and fearfully gazed at the newly formed hole where he had been standing moments ago. "Okay, Dad. Good eye."

"Are you alright?" Alan demanded.

"My ego's a little bruised. I guess I should know to listen to you, huh?"

"I suppose if I point that out later, you'll deny you ever said it?"

"You'd win that bet," Charlie assured him as he tugged open the door to the fourth floor. "After you," he gestured.

--

Charlie listened to the door shut behind them as he slipped Don's arm back over his shoulder. He noticed this hallway seemed to be in a later stage of renovation than the upper floors. "They're renovating from bottom to top, right?"

"I think that's what the guy at the front desk told us," Alan replied.

"So, this is the fourth floor," Charlie thought aloud. "Given that the fifth floor looked like it was nearing the end of the construction phase…" Charlie carefully shifted Don into his father's arms. "Hold on a second."

"Charlie?" Alan inquired.

The professor waved him off and went to the nearest room. He turned the handle and let out a frustrated growl as the knob didn't budge. He quickly moved to the next one and got the same result.

"Charlie?" his father asked again, more insistent this time.

"One of the rooms has to be unlocked," Charlie called over his shoulder. He tried a third door and then a fourth, both with no luck.

"What good-"

"Bed, blankets, water," he cut his father off. "Stuff to help Don."

"Oh," Alan nodded. "Good thinking!"

"Yeah," he muttered under his breath. "If I could just find a room that's open." On the tenth door, Charlie's prayers were answered. He threw open the door and was thrilled to find a brand new double bed, complete with bedding. "Thank you," he whispered toward the heavens.

"Charlie!"

The young man whirled around at the sound of his father's panicked cry.

--

"Charlie!" Alan yelled as he knelt on the floor, holding Don tightly to him. "Charlie!"

"Coming!"

"Shh, Donny," Alan whispered. They'd been standing in the hallway, waiting on Charlie to check all the rooms. Right when he'd found an open door and stepped inside, Don had gasped and sank to the floor. Alan had caught the sick man and eased them both to the ground. Now Don was violently trembling in his embrace, his teeth chattering loudly in the still air around them. "Hang in there, son."

"Dad?" Charlie asked as he fell to his knees at his brother's side. "What happened?"

"He just collapsed and started shivering," Alan explained. "We need to get him warm."

"I found a room," Charlie told him. "Let's get him in there."

The two men lifted their loved one off the floor and half-carried, half-dragged him down the hall and through the open door. Alan eyed the bed and nodded. "Get the covers pulled back."

Charlie quickly did as told and then helped his father lay Don on the bed. Alan pulled the sheet, blanket, and bedspread over his son and tucked the covers around him. His eyes watered as the tremors continued on, unabated. "He's still too cold," he advised Charlie. "Are there any more blankets?"

"I'll check."

Alan sat on the bed next to Don and listened as Charlie opened and closed doors and cabinets looking for any extra bedding.

"Nothing," he reported. "I'll check the other rooms."

Alan nodded as he rubbed his hands together and then placed his warm palms on Don's cheeks. His breath caught as the gesture roused his son.

"D-dad?"

"I'm here," his father whispered reassuringly.

"C-cold."

"I know. We're getting you warmed up, okay? You just hang in there for me."

"'Kay." Don continued shivering beneath the covers, his bleary gaze silently pleading with his father to do something.

"Let me see your arm," Alan spoke softly as he pulled Don's right arm out from under the bedding. He began vigorously rubbing the limb, smiling as he felt the skin warming beneath his ministrations.

"Helps," Don whispered.

"Good. You just rest and let me take care of you."

Charlie appeared in the doorway with two more blankets in his arms. "Here," he said as he dropped them on the floor and shook out the first one. Together he and his father tucked it around Don. "Another?"

Alan looked at the trembling man and nodded. "I think so."

They soon had the two additional blankets piled on top of Don, who was starting to warm up, but still shaking.

"Body heat," Charlie suggested as he climbed into the bed, slipping under the covers and hugging his brother.

"Charlie?"

"I've got you, bro. Are you feeling better?"

"Warm… warmer now."

"Good," Charlie smiled. "Try to rest for me."

Don drifted off at his words and Alan sank onto the bed next to him, feeling completely and utterly drained. "Good job, Charlie."

"Thanks, Dad. You too." He raised an eyebrow and gestured at the bed. "Room for one more."

"I need to sit for a minute." The older man laughed bitterly. "If I lie down right now, I may never get back up."

"I know the feeling," Charlie whispered as, against his better judgment, he drifted off to sleep.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Alan watched as both of his sons lightly dozed in the waning light of the day. Deciding that one of them had better look for an exit before it was too dark, he wearily rose from the bed and slipped out of the room. He carefully walked down the hallway, his nerves on edge as he prayed the aftershocks were finished. He reached the end of the hallway and sighed as he found the door locked. He checked both of the other doors, dismayed but not surprised to find them inaccessible. As he headed back to the room he noticed the small community patio that each floor had for its guests. Alan remembered that it overlooked the front of the hotel and the guest parking lot. He made his way to the patio doors and found them unlocked.

He slipped outside into the chilly evening air, hunching his shoulders and rubbing his arms to stay warm. He cautiously crept to the railing and peered over.

"Oh God," he whispered as he saw the guest parking lot – still full of cars. "Nobody got out?" He leaned over the edge and peered down, looking for any signs of life in the dusky light and coming up empty.

A feeling of despair rose from his gut and crushed his chest in an iron grip. _Benny,_ he thought morosely. _This should have been such a happy occasion for you._

_Snap out of it!_ another voice inside his head yelled. _You don't know that they're all dead! They could be trapped like you on the ground floor of the hotel. Stop jumping to conclusions and focus on getting your sons out of here._

Alan mutely nodded as he retreated back into the building and closed the sliding door behind him. Determination had returned in full force, and he wanted to go back to the room, wake up Charlie, and make _something_ happen.

--

"…lie."

Charlie groggily opened his eyes, trying to figure out why he was in bed and who he was holding on to.

"Charlie?"

The sound of his brother's voice brought him fully awake and he quickly shot up in bed. "Don?"

"Sick."

"Hold on a second," he pleaded as he reached between the bed and the nightstand and grabbed the wastebasket. He rolled Don onto his side, facing over the edge of the bed and slipped the trash can beneath his head. Charlie carefully held Don's head and shoulders steady as his brother's body was wracked with painful paroxysms. "I've got you," Charlie whispered over and over, at a loss for what else to say or do. He noticed the room had grown considerably darker but wasn't pitch black, thanks to the light of the full moon as it reflected off the snow-covered ground outside.

"'M done."

"Easy," the professor soothed as he rolled Don onto his back. Brushing the damp hair from his brother's forehead, he smiled softly. "Better?"

"Truth?"

Charlie shook his head and sighed. "Never mind." He continued stroking Don's hair as his brother relaxed beneath his touch. "Will you be okay for a minute?"

"Yes," Don whispered softly.

"I'll be right back." The younger man gave his brother's shoulder a gentle squeeze as he climbed out of the bed and went to the bathroom. There were no windows so it was considerably darker and Charlie fumbled along the sink until he came to the plastic-wrapped disposable cups. Opening one, he filled it with cool water and turned back to the bedroom. As an afterthought, he also grabbed a washcloth and wet it before rejoining his brother.

"Where's Dad?" Don asked as soon as he saw his brother perching on the side of the bed.

_Good question,_ Charlie thought to himself. "He went to look for a way out." _Yeah, that's got to be it._

"Stairs?"

"Not safe," Charlie told him. He hadn't realized how out of it Don had been when he'd nearly plunged down the stairwell. No need to worry him with that now. "We're stuck here, bro."

"This hotel sucks," his brother said, trying to grin at his own joke but lacking the energy to do so.

"Benny should ask for a refund," Charlie kidded, not managing to make his tone any lighter than Don's.

"Benny," Don stated as he shifted in bed, attempting to sit up. "Is he…"

The professor placed a restraining hand on his brother's shoulder and gently pushed him back to the mattress. "Honestly? I don't know. I _do_ know we're the only ones up here."

"I hope he's okay."

"Me too." Charlie started to hand Don the wet cloth, but upon noticing how badly his brother's hands were shaking he opted to keep it himself. He lightly wiped Don's mouth and then held up the glass where the sick man could see it. "Thirsty?"

"Dying for a drink."

Charlie suppressed a shudder at the word 'dying' and lifted Don's head up, tipping the glass to his lips and slowly trickling water into the parched mouth. He patiently waited until Don patted his knee, indicating he'd had enough. Charlie wiped his mouth once more for good measure before placing the glass and cloth on the bedside table. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap."

The younger man barked a bitter laugh.

"What?" Don asked.

"At least you stopped saying 'fine'."

"Didn't want you to have to go near a dictionary." Don's attempt at levity left him panting and grimacing.

"Easy," Charlie soothed as he smoothed Don's hair. He glanced over his shoulder toward the door and wondered where his father was and what was taking him so long.

"Charlie."

The young man looked back down at his brother. "Yeah, Don?"

"I'll be okay. Go find him."

"You're sure?' When his brother nodded, the professor smiled and patted his cheek. "I'll be back soon."

--

Alan was almost to the room when he saw Charlie enter the hallway, glance around and then head straight for him.

"Dad! Where were you? I was worried!"

"You needed to rest, so I thought I'd check for a way out."

"That's what I told Don," Charlie responded. "I was hoping I wasn't lying." Gesturing hopefully at his father, he asked, "I don't suppose you found one?"

"No."

"Damn," Charlie swore. He lowered his voice and made sure they were out of earshot of the room Don was in. "I'm worried about him, Dad."

"I know, Charlie," Alan answered as he gently hugged his youngest son. "I am, too."

"What if…" Charlie trailed off and tightly returned his father's embrace, unable to voice the thought.

"No, we won't let that happen," Alan swore. "You hear me?"

"Yes," the younger man whispered.

"Good." He released Charlie and held him at arm's length. "You have to be strong – act strong – in front of your brother, okay?"

"Right."

"Listen to me very carefully, Charlie. If he does have an ulcer, it very well could have ruptured in the elevator. That could be why he collapsed. If that's the case, he may be bleeding internally. He's definitely in shock and part of the way to treat that is to keep him calm. He can't sense that we're nervous or worried, because he will be, too, and that's not good for someone in his condition."

"I got it, Dad. I can be strong for him." Charlie squared his shoulders and stared at his father, conveying every bit of confidence he had.

Alan affectionately patted him on the cheek. "That's good, Charlie. Now, let's go inside, keep your brother company and think of a way to get out of here."

The younger man nodded, but suddenly grabbed Alan's sleeve. "Dad, what about Benny and the wedding?"

The older man quietly stood in silence, thinking about how to break the news to his son. "Charlie… I don't know." Deciding honesty was the best route, he added, "All of the guests' cars are still out there, but I didn't see anybody moving around outside."

"Oh," the professor whispered.

"That doesn't mean-"

"I know," Charlie cut him off in a firm, unwavering voice. "Of course it doesn't. Now, let's get back to Don."

--

Don stared at the darkened ceiling and tried to wish away the pain in his stomach. It was throbbing incessantly and the pain was crescendoing to the point that he could hardly keep from crying out, but he knew he had to keep that a secret. His brother and father had done everything – and were _still_ doing everything – in their power to get them out. He would be damned if he was going to further add to their burden.

Hearing footsteps returning to the room, he forced a neutral expression on his face and waited for them to speak. He felt a warm hand on his forehead and smiled as his father's face appeared above him.

"Hey, Donny. How are you doing?"

He started to say 'fine' and then remembered what he'd told Charlie. "Not too bad."

"Right," his father sighed. "Why don't I believe that?" Don remained silent, refusing to get into that discussion with his father. "Charlie tells me you got sick again."

"A little," Don admitted. _Hurt like hell, too,_ he added silently.

"But you feel okay now?"

Don nodded. "For now."

"Good," Alan stated softly. "We're going to be checking out the room for a few minutes. If you feel sick again, just give us a yell."

"I will," Don solemnly promised. He closed his eyes as his father gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. Normally he would have been annoyed by the gesture of affection, but this time he found himself drawing strength from it. His father's footsteps faded into the distance and a second kiss was pressed to his head. _Charlie?_ he thought. _If they both feel the need to be so openly affectionate…_ Don sighed inwardly. _Then we must not stand a very good chance of getting out of here._

--

Alan and Charlie stayed up searching the room by the light of the moon until both men were practically dead on their feet. In the end all that their search had uncovered was two towels, another washcloth and disposable cup, and two extra pillows for the fold-out couch.

"It's not much," Alan sighed as he looked at their meager findings.

"Not at all," Charlie agreed, shivering in the darkness.

"No generator means no heat," his father stated for no particular reason. "How's Donny doing?"

Charlie rose to his knees and peered through the darkness at the figure in the bed. "Seems to be sleeping okay for now."

"We can't let him get too cold," Alan reminded him. "I don't know, Charlie. Maybe we should call it a night and look at this stuff in the light of day."

The professor remained silent as he again sifted through their pile of stuff, waiting for inspiration to hit. "I can't, Dad. I can't just sit and do nothing, waiting on…" Seeing his father's glare in the dimly lit room, he quickly finished, "…A rescue that may never come. We need to think of a way out ourselves."

"We can't get out without help," the older man argued. "The exits are blocked. What we _need_ to do is find a way to let people know we're up here. That way if rescuers _do_ come up here they know where to find us."

"That's a good idea. If we had something to write with, we could write a message on a towel and hang it out there for someone to see."

"You know," Alan said, hope tugging at his heart. "We don't have to write anything. If someone sees a towel, sheet, whatever hanging from the balcony of this floor, they should know we're trapped up here."

"Right," the professor replied enthusiastically. "I can go right now-"

"No," Alan cut him off. "No one will be coming up these snow covered, dangerous roads in the dark and I will not let you go out on that balcony at night and possibly fall to your death. Tomorrow morning, Charlie – that'll be soon enough."

"Whatever," the younger man shrugged, a slight pout marring his features. "What about tonight?"

"We keep your brother as warm and comfortable as possible. One of us will stay awake at all times in case Don needs us, okay?"

"I'll stay awake first." Alan started to argue but his son waved him off. "I grabbed a nap earlier – it's your turn."

"Okay, Charlie," his father agreed wearily.

The two men moved to the bed and Alan lifted the covers and slipped in on Don's left side, tenderly wrapping his arms around his oldest son. He smiled as Don unconsciously shifted closer to him. "I love you, Donny," Alan whispered as he let his eyes drift shut.

The bed shifted and the covers moved causing Alan to open an eye and watch as Charlie climbed into bed on Don's other side. The young genius smoothed the lines from his brother's face and rested a hand on his head. Don started to mumble and Charlie quietly shushed him, smiling as Don muttered something and pressed his face against Charlie's thigh.

Alan suddenly wondered if this would be the last chance he ever got to experience this – him and his two sons together. There was a chance none of them would make it out and he knew the odds for Don's survival were even lower. He tried in vain to fend off sleep, wanting to savor this moment forever, but his mind and body were too tired and he soon fell asleep, his oldest son safely cocooned in his embrace.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** The song referenced at the end is 'What Sara Said' by Death Cab for Cutie. Awesome song, and awesome album!

Charlie dragged his eyes open and immediately winced at the bright sunlight coming into the room. He yawned and stretched, careful not to jostle Don who was lying beside him in the bed. He and his father had switched out a few hours ago so that Charlie could grab a second, even briefer nap.

"Good morning," Alan spoke from across the room.

Charlie looked at his brother and smoothed his hair, disappointed when he didn't stir. Charlie carefully slipped out of bed and joined his father on the sofa. "Morning, Dad."

"Charlie," Alan spoke, his voice low as he glanced nervously in Don's direction.

"What?" the young man asked. His blood ran cold at his father's tone.

"I cleaned out the wastebasket this morning and…" Alan forced himself to hold his son's gaze and kept his tears in check. "There was blood in it."

"He threw up blood in the elevator, too," Charlie countered. "I thought that was normal for an ulcer."

"It is." Alan paused and thought of how to better explain the situation. "Remember how it looked like dark coffee grounds?" When his son nodded, the older man continued. "_That_ is normal for an ulcer. But this was plain looking blood. That means he's bleeding internally. Charlie… the ulcer ruptured."

"Okay," the professor nodded. "What's that mean?"

The older Eppes let out a shaky sigh. "That means that Don is losing blood – I don't know how fast – and there's no way for us to stop it. The more he loses, the shockier he'll get. Dehydration is a problem, too, if this goes on long enough."

"But you're making it sound like he's going to…" Alan slowly nodded. "No, Dad. No. I won't listen to that."

"That is a very real possibility if help doesn't get here soon. You need to accept that, Charlie. We need to be there for Don if and when the time comes."

"No!" Charlie protested angrily as he bolted from the couch and glared at his father. "I can't believe you're even talking like this. This is _Don_ – nothing can happen to him."

"Charlie-"

"Just… Just shut up," the younger man continued in a hoarse whisper. "I'm not giving up on him, you hear me? I'm going to go outside and hang something for the rescuers to see _when_ they come. If you can't be positive, then at least leave me alone."

Charlie grabbed the pile of supplies and stormed outside onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him. He closed his eyes and tried to erase his father's expression from his mind.

_Don's not going to die. I can't believe Dad would even think that. Don's too strong and stubborn for that. No, help will come soon and we'll go to the hospital and everyone will be okay. That's the way it's always been._

Deciding that his father was just being a pessimist, Charlie sat down and began to devise an eye-catching display, all the while confident in the knowledge that his brother would make it out of this just fine.

--

Alan watched his youngest son as he sat on the balcony in the cool winter air, feverishly working on something to draw attention to their room. He sagged against the couch reflecting on just how badly the exchange with Charlie had gone. He'd debated whether he should even bring the subject up, but he didn't want Charlie to be caught off guard if and when something happened to Don.

_Speaking of,_ Alan thought as he rose from the couch and moved to the bed. He leaned over and gently stroked his son's face in an attempt to erase the lines of pain. "Donny?" he called softly.

The man in the bed moaned but didn't wake.

Alan carefully settled his weight on the bed and held his son's hand in his. He lightly traced the back of his knuckles and then traced each long, graceful digit.

"Who knew?" Alan whispered, his voice no louder than a gentle breeze. "You have such a dangerous job and you willingly put your life on the line every day. Who knew this would happen? It seems like such a waste, Donny." Alan moved the hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the fingers before pressing them to his cheek. "You can't leave me now. You can't leave your brother. You have to hang in there for us, okay?" Closing his eyes, Alan tilted his face skyward and begged God not to take his oldest from him. "Please, I'll do anything. You can take me instead – I've lived a long, meaningful life. My poor son hasn't even had a chance to start a family. It's not his time. You _can't_ take him."

Don moaned, drawing his father's attention as he shifted on the bed, his face grimacing in pain. His fingers spasmed in his father's grip as he restlessly bent his knee and tried to roll over.

"Shh," Alan whispered, setting down his son's hand and holding him on his back. "I'm here, son. You're… You're okay." His heart broke at the lie, but he couldn't let his son know how badly he was doing, nor how badly Alan had let him down. "I'm so sorry, Donny." He leaned against the headboard and shifted Don into his lap. Threading his fingers through the short, dark hair, he let a tear escape. "Please, son. Please forgive me."

The only response was the sound of Don's increasingly shallow breathing as it filled the deathly still air around them.

--

Charlie finished hanging his creation from the railing and leaned over to make sure it looked okay. He'd tied a pillow at the top of the sheet and a pillow at the bottom to ensure the sheet wouldn't twist up or blow in the wind. The white sheet would no doubt blend into the snow but Charlie had managed to find a leftover can of brown paint under the bathroom sink. It wasn't the most eye-catching color, but at least it should stand out from the white sheet and the snow surrounding it. He'd painted 'SOS' and the room number and hoped that would be enough for any rescuers that might show up. _And soon,_ he hoped.

His work done, Charlie slipped back into the relative warmth of the hotel room and shook his head to clear his hair of snow flakes. He glanced at the bed and saw his father holding his brother, whispering to him and soothing him with his touch. The younger man felt a stab of despair and guilt in his heart and quietly approached the bed.

"How's he doing?" Charlie inquired softly.

"Not good," Alan replied, his voice strained and broken. "Not good at all. He's been sick two more times since you've been out there and…"

"More blood?" Charlie asked weakly.

"I'm afraid so," Alan told him.

"Dad," the younger man whispered as his knees grew weak. "I don't…"

"What is it, son?"

"He can't leave me – leave us." A tear slipped down his cheek and he furiously scrubbed it away. "He can't," he whispered again, his voice desperate and pleading.

"Come here," Alan beckoned, holding out his arm invitingly.

Charlie wasted no time in sitting on the bed and leaning against his father. He laid his hand over Don's heart, closing his eyes and concentrating on the gentle rise and fall of his brother's chest. "Maybe he's not bleeding that badly?"

Alan laid his head on top of Charlie's and squeezed his shoulders. "Charlie," he breathed. "Don needs your support. He needs you to be strong for him."

"Right." Charlie slid down until his head was resting on Don's shoulder, his mouth next to Don's ear. "I'm here with you, Don. Dad's here, too. We're not leaving you, okay? You're not alone."

"'S good," Don weakly whispered, startling his family.

"You're awake?" Charlie asked hopefully.

But Don had already drifted back to sleep, oblivious to the two worried men who were holding him and pleading with any being that might listen not to take him away.

--

Alan glanced at his watch and sighed. Eleven o'clock. Four hours since Charlie had hung the sheet on the balcony. Four hours of waiting in vain for help to arrive. Four hours and four more times of Don being sick, the amount of blood he was losing increasing at an alarming rate. _How many more hours does he have?_ Alan despondently wondered.

"That's it," Charlie spoke softly to his brother after the latest round of sickness, drawing Alan's attention to the present. "Easy, bro. Just let me lay you back down."

Alan opened his arms and Charlie placed Don in them with the utmost care. He carefully settled Don's weight against his chest, pointedly ignoring the way his oldest son's limbs landed where gravity dictated. Don had long since lost the strength to control his own movements, instead relying on his father and brother for the tiniest of functions.

Charlie perched on the bed and gently wiped at the sheen of sweat on the sick man's face, something he'd been doing almost non-stop since Don had gotten sick just after sunrise.

"You're doing so well," Alan whispered to the young genius. "Don is lucky to have you as a brother."

A teary-eyed Charlie kept his gaze on his brother's face as he shook his head. "No, he's not. This doesn't even _begin_ to repay him for all of the things he's done for me. He's looked out for me my whole life, Dad. You know I never once thanked him? I mean _really_ thanked him. And now…" He swallowed deeply and let the words hang in the air, choosing to put all of his focus into soothing his brother.

His father mutely nodded and slipped his hand into Don's, giving him a gentle squeeze as he rested his cheek atop the dark, matted hair. The silence between the two men stretched out and each one closed their eyes, both wishing Don's breathing didn't sound quite so shallow and ineffective. The injured man suddenly shifted and moaned, his eyes slowly opening.

"Hey," Alan greeted him warmly, with the biggest smile he could manage. "Nice to see you, sleepyhead."

Don's lips twitched in the ghost of a smile as he licked his lips. "Water?"

"Coming up," Charlie nodded as he went into the bathroom and ran the tap. He returned to the bed and gently lifted his brother's head off of his father's chest, slowly tipping the glass to his lips. Alan felt his son's body trembling with the effort of being upright and trying to swallow, so he reassuringly squeezed the clammy hand in his.

"You're doing great, Donny. Just take it nice and slow."

Charlie slowly pulled the glass away and let Don catch his breath. "More?"

"'M good," the pale man mumbled drowsily. "Thanks."

"Any time, Don." Charlie picked up the cool cloth and gently wiped Don's mouth.

"You feel like staying awake for a little while?" Alan asked hopefully, hating himself for doing so. He knew Don needed to rest, but he couldn't bear the thought of Don quietly slipping away from him forever. No, he needed Don awake and talking so he could try to convince himself that things were going to be okay.

"I'll try," the sick man promised, blinking his eyes in an effort to keep them open.

The knife of guilt twisted in Alan's heart as he realized Don would do anything he asked him to. _Oh God,_ Alan sobbed in his head. _God help me for being so selfish, but I just can't stand the silence. It makes it feel like you've already gone._

"Someone talk," Don said his tone sounding light-hearted but betrayed by the pinched lines of pain creasing his face.

"Well, I could tell you about the latest problem I'm working on," Charlie offered with a twinkle in his eye.

Alan silently studied Don, both he and Charlie waiting to see if he would rise to the bait.

"Thought you wanted me awake?"

That one line – the familiar banter between the brothers – was enough to give Alan the strength he needed to put Don's well-being ahead of his own selfish needs.

"Good point, Donny. But you know what? You probably should get some sleep. We'll be here when you wake up."

Don's eyes lazily rolled upward where he locked gazes with his father. "I'm… I'm…"

"Shh, it's okay, son. What is it?"

A flicker of something appeared in Don's eyes, but quickly disappeared. "I'm tired."

His father smiled and moved his free hand to Don's shoulder, where he began to massage soothing circles. "I know. Just rest. We're right here."

"Okay," Don softly exhaled as he closed his eyes.

"Right here," Alan whispered again as he looked at Charlie, seeing the same sense of hopelessness he felt reflected in his son's brown eyes.

--

Don's eyes may have been closed, but he was light years away from sleeping. Truth be told, he was scared to death. He thought back over his life – as much as he could in his increasingly confused and foggy state of mind – and never remembered feeling this afraid. _Gotta be careful,_ he chided himself. _You almost slipped up and told them you were scared. You can't do that, you know. Have to stay strong for them._

He'd been so close to confiding in his father but then he'd remembered Charlie was sitting right there with him and he'd stopped himself just in time, instead admitting to being tired. _Can't let Charlie down. He looks up to you. Dad kept telling you that all these years and you were too stupid to believe him until a couple of years ago. No, I can't let him down._

The weary man sighed deeply and attempted to clear his mind of any conscious thought. As his head cleared, it made way for other sensations – a gentle massage on his shoulder; a firm, reassuring grip on his hand; the cool cloth stroking his face. But the pain was still there, too – a burning, throbbing ache in his stomach that refused to be chased away. The comforting sensations were dulling it, but even they couldn't make it disappear.

_Why me?_ Don suddenly found himself wondering. _I've lived a good life. I've tried to do the right thing; I've tried to help other people. Why did this happen to me?_

The answer struck him as quickly as the question had.

_The same reason the cancer struck Mom – there is no reason. That's what life is – a series of events beyond any one person's control. In a twisted sort of way,_ he reflected. _I guess that's the same reason life's worth… well, living._

Another thought popped into his head, and he almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. _You're on death's doorstep and you think of a song?_

But think of it he had and the pain lessened even more as faint music filled his head, followed by a line he'd never given much thought to before: _And it came to me then, that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time_.

That one line played over and over again in his head, slowly drawing him down into the darkness and away from the pain in his body and soul.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Charlie tearfully watched as his brother succumbed to another wave of sickness. He held his shoulders and pressed his forehead between Don's shoulder blades, praying this bout would be over soon and that Don could finally rest peacefully. A chill swept down his spine as he realized that his brother wasn't too far away from doing just that.

_Think positive,_ he chastised himself. _Negative thinking won't get you anywhere._

A low, weak moan slipped past Don's parted lips as he limply hung in his brother's arms, trying to take in enough oxygen to survive.

"Doing good, bro," Charlie whispered as he gently rolled Don back into their father's waiting embrace.

Don had fallen asleep after a morning of being sick and Charlie had begun to feel a little more hopeful. Just as he was allowing himself to relax, his brother had jolted awake and groaned and Charlie had instinctively known what to do.

Now he watched as his father held on to Don and whispered loving words in his ear. Once his brother seemed to be settled and at ease, Charlie glanced out the window and then back to his father. "What time is it?"

Alan awkwardly shifted and looked at his watch. "Twelve-thirty."

Charlie suppressed a frustrated sigh as he made his way to the window and looked at the ground below. "Where are they? Shouldn't help be here by now?"

"Charlie," Alan called softly.

"What?" the despondent young man asked, not tearing his gaze away from the window.

"Come here and sit with us."

"I… I need to be standing right now, Dad. I can't just… sit there any more. I feel useless."

Alan sighed, but didn't push any further. "We don't know how bad it was, Charlie."

The young man glanced over his shoulder at his father, but remained silent.

"The earthquake – and that's what we're assuming this was – could have been a bad one. There may be a lot of people that need to be rescued. Access up here was already limited with the snow and now there might be debris on the road. We just don't know."

"I don't like not knowing," the professor whispered. "It's…" He waved his hands in frustration as he leaned his eyes against the cold glass.

"It's a loss of control for you," Alan informed him. "And you always did like to be in control." His father chuckled softly and Charlie looked up to see him studying Don's face. "You two always did have that in common."

"What do you mean?" Charlie urged his father to continue.

"You both have to be in control. You with your numbers and understanding how the world works, and Don with his emotions and understanding what makes people tick. So different, yet so much alike."

"I never thought of it like that," Charlie replied as he moved back to the bedside.

"Of course not," Alan laughed. "It's something only a parent truly notices. Your mother used to remark on it all the time."

The young man silently nodded as he sat on the bed and rested a hand on Don's cool, clammy cheek. His big brother's face was almost translucent and the sheen of sweat was lessening as his body slowly bled out, draining him of much needed fluids. A light tremor pulsed under his hand as his brother shivered and Charlie gently tucked the covers around him more securely. On impulse, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Don's temple before resting his forehead against his brother's.

"Dad," Charlie mumbled as he closed his eyes.

"Yes?"

"Tell me everything is going to be okay."

"Charlie…"

"Dad," the young man repeated, his voice breaking on the one syllable. "Please tell me."

He heard his father's soft exhalation of breath, followed by a faint whisper. "Everything is going to be fine, Charlie."

--

_I've lied to both of my sons today,_ Alan thought bitterly. _I told Donny he would be okay, and now I've gone and told Charlie everything will be fine. I don't know how much longer I can do this – hold myself together for them._

Even as he had that thought, he knew the answer – as long as it took. Either for them to be rescued, or for them to move on to the next phase of their spiritual lives.

Alan frowned at the thought as he stared down at his sons – one sleeping the sleep of someone not long for the world and the other lightly dozing as concern and worry lingered on the periphery. He smoothed Don's hair and repeated the gesture with Charlie, tangling his fingers in the curls and remembering how Don's hair had the same curls when it was longer – undoubtedly why he kept it cut military short. A pang of loss squeezed his heart as he imagined how those curls would have looked on his grandchildren.

_I guess I'll never know now. _

The thought brought tears to his eyes and Alan found that he was simply too tired to hold them back. The salty moisture ran down his cheeks and ignited a despair the likes of which he'd only felt once before when Margaret was dying.

"My son," he cried softly, burying his face in Don's short, damp hair. "Donny." He tightened his arms around his oldest, as if he could fend off death by sheer willpower alone.

"Dad," Charlie whispered as Alan felt a pair of arms encircle him.

He leaned into his youngest son's touch, all the while keeping a firm grip on Don. Knowing that this was one of the last family moments they would ever share, Alan concentrated on everything around him – the sight of the hotel room's interior, the smell of new construction, the stale taste of the cold, winter air; the touch of his sons' warm, living bodies against his and the sound of three men's harsh breathing as they each struggled to survive.

--

Charlie didn't know how long he'd sat there, holding his father, but the moment was shattered as Don groaned and restlessly turned his head to the side. Suspecting his brother was about to be sick again and knowing that it was sheer torture on his debilitated body, Charlie let go of his father and slid down to lie next to Don.

"Deep breaths," he encouraged. _Right, he can barely breathe – deep breaths should be a piece of cake._ "In and out."

Don's eyes opened and he stared at his brother with a glazed look in his eyes. "Can't."

"I know, but try, okay?" Charlie reached out and lightly placed his hand on Don's stomach as he had each time before, but quickly yanked it back as Don howled in agony. "_Don?_"

"Hurts," Don panted as he his hand weakly fisted in the blanket. "God…"

"Dad!" Charlie called in alarm.

"I know," Alan nodded as he shifted out from under Don. "Trade places with me, Charlie."

The younger man obeyed, quickly scampering to the top of the bed and propping his brother against him. His wide eyes watched as Alan sat next to Don's hip and cupped his pale face between his hands.

"Donny? Listen to me, son. Can you hear me?"

"Make it stop," Don pleaded as he clenched his eyes shut against the agony.

"Listen," Alan firmly commanded, waiting until the face sandwiched between his hands nodded. "The pain in your stomach – it's gotten worse?"

"Yes," Don choked out as a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.

_Please tell me he bit his lip,_ Charlie prayed. _Please let that be all it is._

"It hurt when Charlie touched you?" Don nodded and Alan looked up. "You just rested a hand there, right? You didn't push?"

"No!" the younger man exclaimed, taken aback at the mere suggestion that he would hurt his brother. "Of course I didn't push!"

"I was afraid of that," the older man sighed in defeat. "Hold on tight to him, okay? This is going to be ten times worse, I'm afraid."

"What are you going to do?" Charlie demanded as he clung to his brother for dear life. "You're going to hurt him on purpose?"

"I need to check something." Alan gave his youngest son a hard look until he was certain Charlie was ready. "Don? I'm so sorry, son. I'm going to be as gentle as I can… This is going to hurt, Donny."

"Dad," Don whispered in confusion. "What-" He stopped speaking and an agonized yell was ripped from his lungs. Even in his weakened state Don managed to arch his body against Charlie's grip as he sobbed in pain. "Stop!" he openly begged, in too much pain to care how he sounded.

Alan blinked back tears but stayed focused on his task, lightly palpating Don's abdomen and wincing as he cried out at each touch.

"Dad," Charlie spoke up for his brother. "My God, Dad – what are you _doing_?"

"I'm done now," Alan whispered as he shifted his hands to Don's face, wiping at the tears staining his son's cheeks and smoothing back the sweaty hair. "I'm so sorry, Donny."

As soon as Alan had stopped prodding Don's midsection, the weakened agent had collapsed heavily onto Charlie chest and panted for dear life. Charlie buried his face in the crook of Don's neck and fought back his own tears. "It's okay, it's over," he soothed, though he suspected Don was too far gone to understand the words. "It's over, Don. It's over. You did good." He kept talking in the hopes that his voice would reach his brother, even if he couldn't comprehend the words. After a few minutes, Don was blissfully unconscious and Charlie dragged his eyes away from his brother to lock onto his father's face. "What is it?' he asked, terrified of what was coming.

"His abdomen is rigid and tender to even the lightest touch," Alan spoke softly, his tone flat and hopeless.

"What does that mean?" Charlie demanded.

"It means the bleeding's gotten worse." Alan looked finally looked up from his lap and Charlie's breath was taken away at the utter despair in the older man's expression. "It won't be long now."

"Won't be long?" he asked shakily.

"We should keep him comfortable. Make sure he knows we're here."

"But… He…" Charlie's voice sounded just like it had when he was a kid and his father could keep him safe from everything in the world, no matter how big or bad it was. "Dad?"

Alan leaned forward and pulled Charlie to him, turning his head so that his lips were against his son's ear. "Strong," he reminded Charlie. "Strong for Don."

Although every fiber of his being was screaming for him to do something, Charlie knew they were out of options. There was nothing they could do except be there for Don. His heart was breaking and his mind went numb, yet something inside him clicked into place. Despite the fact he wanted to curl up and die right next to his brother, he felt a strength flowing into his veins that was unfamiliar, yet comforting.

"Strong," he whispered to his father, surprised at how steady and calm his voice had become. "For Don."

Alan resumed his place against the headboard with Don resting against him, his head on his father's right shoulder. Charlie sat on his father's left and carefully rested his head on his father's other shoulder. He started to drape his arm protectively over Don, but realized that would only cause his brother pain. He settled for taking Don's hand in his, smiling as Alan repeated the gesture with Don's right hand. The youngest Eppes slipped his free arm around his father's back and felt his heart warm as Alan lightly embraced him with his left arm.

The three men lay in the bed together – one waiting for fate to claim him and the other two ready to make his journey as comfortable as possible.

--

The pain was gone.

That was the first thing Don thought as his eyes slid open.

_And I'm warm. I feel… loved. _

His vision cleared and he slowly recognized the hotel room. Sliding his gaze to the side, he saw Charlie lightly dozing next to him, gripping his hand in his.

_Charlie,_ Don smiled inwardly. _My wonderful baby brother. Annoying as hell sometimes, but always looking up to me, whether I wanted you to or not. You'll have to be strong for Dad and help him when I'm gone._

_When I'm gone?_ In the back of his mind, Don was pretty sure that thought should be making him uneasy, but he felt incredibly calm. _I guess I've accepted what's happening._

"That's right, dear."

Don shifted his gaze to stare straight ahead and found his mother standing at the foot of the bed. Again, he was certain that should unnerve him, but it seemed so… right.

"Mom," he whispered hoarsely, his voice too low and soft to disturb his father or brother.

"It's me, baby. I came to check on you guys. I leave you alone for a few years and look what you get yourselves into." She smiled as she spoke and seemingly floated closer to the bed. "The pain's gone, Donny."

"Yes."

"That's good." She smiled and placed a transparent hand on his cheek. He knew he should be surprised by how warm and real it felt, but he wasn't. Somehow it made sense that she would be real to him when he was so close to joining her.

"You're here for me?" Don asked, not frightened at all by the prospect.

Margaret graced him with a loving smile and leaned close to his ear. She quietly whispered to him but a sudden roaring in Don's ears obscured her voice. His vision tunneled and time seemed to stand still. "Mom," he breathed as he surrendered to the darkness.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

"Mom."

The one word was almost inaudible, but it jarred Charlie from his light slumber. "Don?" he asked fearfully, terrified that his brother was leaving him. He opened his eyes and immediately squinted against the brilliant white light that filled the room. He couldn't recall having ever seen a light as bright as the one that bathed the small hotel room.

"Mom," Don sighed again.

Charlie's eyes widened and he watched the beautiful, pure light as it slowly condensed into a small circle, floating up the far wall and along the ceiling, finally coming to rest over Don's heart. He watched in stunned silence as the circle of light spilt in two and started to rise back to the ceiling.

_Mom came for you, Don,_ he thought as he watched in stunned silence. The lights hovered just at the edge of the door and Charlie sat up, confused as to why his mother and brother weren't moving on.

"Hello!" A strange, mechanical voice boomed into the room." Can anybody hear me?"

Charlie shook his head and turned toward the balcony door. His eyes widened as he saw two rescue workers outside, shining their flashlights into the room.

"Thank God!" he yelled as he rushed to the door and threw it open. "Dad! Dad! Help is here!"

"Are you hurt, sir?" the first rescue worker asked as he stepped inside the small room.

"My brother," Charlie said as he pointed to the bed. "My brother's…" _Is he dead? Did Mom come and get him?_

"He's what?" the first man urged as his partner rushed to the bedside.

"I think… He was… He was bleeding…" Charlie's tired mind was spinning like crazy, leaving him unable to complete a thought.

"He's alive!" the second man yelled. "But he's barely hanging on. Radio for the chopper and tell them to step on it."

_Alive?_ Charlie wondered silently, too afraid to believe the words. _He's alive?_

"Please hurry," Alan spoke up from Charlie's side. "Please save my son."

"Dad?" Charlie asked. "How did you… You were over there."

Alan's concerned face floated in front of Charlie and he carefully pushed the younger man to sit on the floor. "Deep breaths, Charlie. Calm down. You're in shock. Slow your breathing or you're going to pass…"

His father's voice was lost in the sudden roaring in his ears. He let his eyes close and felt himself falling against something firm yet comforting. _Don's alive,_ was his last thought before he slipped into oblivion.

--

Alan sat quietly in the uncomfortable hospital chair next to Charlie's bedside, waiting for his son to wake up. The paramedics at the hotel had advised him – and the doctor had confirmed – that Charlie was suffering from exhaustion and mild dehydration. "Nothing a little bed rest and some fluids won't cure," the doctor had told him with a smile.

Of course Don's condition was nowhere near as easy to listen to. Alan tried not to dwell on it, knowing that as soon as Charlie woke up, he was going to be going over the details of Don's condition all over again. The weary father rubbed his face and sighed, wishing he could go back to last Thursday and change the course of events. He'd make damn sure he listened when his son said he wasn't feeling well.

"Dad?"

"Charlie," Alan smiled as he leaned closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but not bad." He glanced nervously around the hospital room. "So we made it out of that damn hotel room?" He shot up in bed and gasped. "Oh my God – Don! Where is he? How is he? Is he-"

"Whoa, Charlie," Alan held up a hand. "Slow down. First of all, Don is alive."

Charlie sagged back onto the bed in relief. He cocked an eyebrow and hesitantly asked, "But?"

_Here we go._ "He did have a peptic ulcer that perforated, more than likely when we were in the elevator. The doctor said it was obvious to him that Don had been suffering from that ulcer for at least a week or so before it perforated."

"So he really was sick all last week," Charlie sighed. "But he kept insisting he was fine."

"You know how your brother is," Alan reminded him. "Anyway, the perforation led to the internal bleeding which sent Don into shock. It also caused a nasty case of peritonitis."

"How nasty?"

"He's undergoing aggressive treatment for it even as we speak." Alan paused and considered how truthful he should be with Charlie. Deciding his young son had proven himself in a very tough situation, he chose full disclosure. "The doctor said if we had been even two hours later, Don's chances for survival would have been next to zero."

"But he's okay?"

"For now, Charlie. The treatment seems to be working, but we have to watch out for complications, namely infection and sepsis."

"Give me numbers," Charlie demanded.

"I can't – I didn't ask for them."

"Dad-"

"Don's stronger than numbers, Charlie. If he wasn't, then he wouldn't be here right now."

"You're right," Charlie agreed ruefully.

"Of course I am," Alan chuckled.

"Can we see him?"

"He's in critical condition in the ICU," his father informed him. "They have very strict visiting hours and policies. I have been to see him a few times-"

"A _few_ times?" Charlie echoed. "How long have we been here?"

"You've been sleeping for almost twenty-four hours straight. You were really exhausted and dehydrated. Apparently you were so focused on caring for Don that you forgot to look after yourself."

"I was so worried about him," Charlie sighed. "I still am."

"Me too."

"You dodged my question earlier – can we see him?"

"Your doctor should be releasing you soon. He wanted to let you wake up and check you out first. If that goes well and it's still visiting hours, we'll go see your brother."

"If not?"

"We go back to the hotel room I booked and come back first thing in the morning."

"Another hotel room?" Charlie groaned.

"Hospital hotel," Alan winked. "I figure it's okay to get stuck in this one."

"Right," the professor nodded. "Oh – I forgot! What about Benny and the wedding?"

"Everybody's fine," his father assured him. "They were in the banquet hall when the earthquake hit and they managed to get to safety. The hotel staff was debating whether or not to let them go up to the rooms when the first aftershock hit. They decided it would be better to evacuate everyone to the hotel down the road and come back the next day."

"They left us there?" Charlie inquired.

"No. They didn't know we were there. Since all of the guests were Benny's, the staff asked him if everyone was accounted for. I'd told Benny we were leaving first thing that morning, so he told them everyone was present. He didn't know we'd stayed."

"They didn't notice an extra car in the lot after everyone left?"

"No one took their cars. The guest lot was blocked with debris so the hotel carried everyone in the staff vans." Alan leaned back in the chair and deeply sighed. "All in all, everything that could possibly have combined to make this situation worse – did. We've got to be three of the unluckiest people on the planet."

"No," Charlie shook his head. "We're not." Seeing his father's skeptical gaze, Charlie slowly smiled. "We're alive, right? All _three_ of us?"

"You're right," Alan beamed at the curly haired man on the bed. "Suddenly, I feel like the _luckiest_ man in the world."

--

_Oh Don,_ Charlie lamented as he got his first look at his big brother since their rescue. The agent lay in bed, covers pulled up to his waist, with an IV in each hand – one red and one clear. His face shone with sweat and the damp hospital gown clung to his chest.

"Believe it or not," Alan said as he guided Charlie to sit in a chair by the bed. "He looks better than he did yesterday."

"He looks better than he did in the hotel, but still… He's going to be okay?"

"The doctors are 'cautiously optimistic'," Alan sighed.

"Meaning they don't want to say one way or the other," Charlie spat bitterly. "Isn't that what they said about Mom at one point?"

"Early on in her treatment, yes."

Charlie shifted his gaze to his father and cocked his head. "It's almost like that all over again."

"I think it's worse," Alan replied. "We knew your mother's time was coming days beforehand. This thing with Donny – it was so sudden."

"But he'll make it," the professor stated confidently. "He has to."

"No arguments from me."

Charlie nodded and returned his gaze to his brother, who still looked so pale and _fragile_. "I'm not used to seeing him like this," the young man whispered. "He's always so strong and in command of everything. I never realized how much I count on him for that."

"He's your big brother," Alan spoke softly. "That's his job."

"Right," the curly haired man breathed. He reached through the bed rails and gently covered Don's hand with his, careful not to disturb the IV. "So," he spoke softly to the sleeping figure. "Get back to work already."

"Gentlemen," a nurse spoke as she quietly entered the room. "Time's up for the hour. You can come back in forty-five minutes."

"But-"

"No buts, Charlie," Alan interrupted him. "They're already bending the rules to let both of us in here. Let's not push our luck." He grasped his youngest son's elbow and led him from the room. "Thanks," he nodded to the nurse on the way out. "We'll see you soon."

"Of course," she smiled. "Oh, Professor?"

Charlie looked over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"If anything should happen – good or bad – I have both of your cell phone numbers on my speed dial."

His face lit up with a warm smile. "Thanks."

--

Alan smiled as he watched Charlie tend to Don. They were visiting for the last time that evening and Charlie had been complaining about how hot Don looked every time they saw him. The duty nurse had suggested he bathe Don's face and neck with a cool cloth. Alan suspected the idea was to soothe Charlie more so than Don and it was working like a charm.

"You are looking much better now," the young man spoke to his brother as he continuously ran the cloth down his face and neck. "But you still look a little too hot. How do you feel?"

Alan smiled, knowing that Charlie didn't expect an answer but proud of him for making his presence known to his brother in such a nonchalant way.

"You shouldn't be in any pain, either," the professor continued. "I've charted your facial expressions when it's time for your next dose of pain killers and I think I've gotten a good handle on it. If not, all you have to do is say the word." Charlie paused to rewet the cloth before beginning anew. "Yep, just wake up and tell me-"

"Char… lie."

"Don?" the younger man called joyously. "You're awake!"

"Water?" the injured man croaked.

"Coming right up," Charlie said with a flourishing gesture.

As soon as he stepped away from the bed to pour a glass of water, Alan took his place. "Donny," he happily greeted his son. "It's so good to see you awake."

Don nodded and licked his chapped lips as he glanced at his brother. Charlie smiled and brought the glass to the bed, carefully guiding the straw into his brother's mouth. "Nice and slow."

Don downed about half the glass before pushing his brother's hand away. "Thanks," he said, his voice stronger than before.

"Sure."

"How are you feeling?" Alan asked.

"Not a thing," Don grinned drunkenly.

"So the morphine's working well, I see." Alan couldn't help but laugh at his oldest son's dopey expression.

"So is my equation," Charlie bragged.

"Yeah?" Don cocked an eyebrow at his younger brother. "Thanks for that, Charlie. Being pain free again is nice."

"I'm just glad I could help."

Alan knew there was more to that thought than Charlie wanted to share and he made a mental note to discuss it with him later. _Heck, we'll all need to discuss this later. But right now…_

He leaned over and kissed Don on top of his head. "It's good to have you back, Donny."

"Dad," the sick man groaned.

_There's the sound I've needed to hear,_ Alan thought as he grinned from ear to ear. _Now things can finally get back to normal._

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

"Stylin'," Don joked as he got his first look at the vehicle his father had rented for the long trip home.

"It was the best choice I had," Alan replied testily. "The other rental was too small for you to stretch out in. I only had your best interests at heart, Don. You think I _want_ to drive a lavender minivan?"

"Don't believe him," Charlie laughed. "I overheard him asking the rental guy how much one of these babies went for."

Don burst into laughter, quickly waving at Charlie to stop as his stomach protested. "Save the stand-up," he pleaded. "It hurts to laugh right now."

"Sorry, Don," the younger man replied with genuine remorse. He carefully gripped his brother under one arm while the orderly across from him grabbed Don from the other side. Together the two men helped Don out of the wheelchair and settled him into the back of the van. "Thanks," Charlie told the orderly, indicating he'd take it from there. The young man helped his brother shift until he was reasonably comfortable and buckled Don into the seat. "Ready?"

"To?" Don asked with a twinkle in his eyes. "To get out of the hospital? To get out of Bridgeport? To get home? Yes, yes, and yes, Buddy."

"Well, only if you're sure," the young genius teased, easily dodging the playful punch his brother threw at him. He glanced to the front seat and back at Don, grinning that annoying little brother grin he'd perfected over the years. "Look at this."

"What?" the agent asked.

"Looks like I'm getting shotgun this time."

"If I wasn't recovering right now…"

"Ow!" Charlie yelped as a hand smacked the back of his head. Whipping around to look at his father while rubbing the back of his head, he grumbled, "What'd you do that for?"

"Because Donny is recovering," Alan smirked. "Now sit down and buckle in. I want to make it home before dark."

Don watched as the younger man muttered grouchily and took his seat. He glanced back at Don who gave him a cocky smile. A flicker of something flashed in the professor's eyes before he did something sudden and out of character – stuck his tongue out at Don.

The agent laughed and winced, pressing a hand to his stomach.

"Sorry," Charlie quickly told him. "I keep forgetting-"

"It's fine, Buddy. Believe it or not, it feels good to laugh."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It does."

The three men fell silent as Alan navigated the twisting road that exited the hospital lot. Once on the main road, he let out a small breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Boy I feel better," he stated.

"Me too," Charlie nodded.

"Yeah," Don whispered. "I thought…" He quickly clammed up, realizing he was about to say more than he meant to.

"Thought what?" Alan inquired.

"Nothing," the man in the back answered.

"Don?"

"Forget it, Charlie." His voice remained low, but there was a note of warning in the words.

"Okay," he agreed. "But do me a favor."

"What's that?" Don asked as he leaned his head back against the seat.

"Make sure you find me when you are ready to talk. Please."

"Nothing to talk about, Buddy. Thanks anyway, though."

Silence once again filled the car as Alan left the main part of Bridgeport and began the drive down the snow and ice covered roads. Don noticed his father drove with a white-knuckled grip on the wheel and appreciated his caution. As they came up to the turnoff for the resort, Don couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine.

"Cold?" Charlie quietly queried.

"A little," Don lied, although he suspected his brother was feeling the exact same thing.

"Me too," the professor stated, making no move to turn up the heat.

Don warily eyed the road as they passed it and let out a deep sigh of relief. He glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure the turnoff wasn't following them. _How rational is that?_ he wondered to himself.

"I hope I never see that place again," Alan said as he, too, watched in the rearview, making sure they were completely away from the resort's road. "And I mean _never_."

"Too many bad memories," Charlie breathed as he scratched his cheek.

Don peered more closely and noticed his brother's cheek shone where he was scratching. _Charlie's crying?_ "Buddy?"

"Yeah?" he replied, feigning ignorance about the concerned note in Don's voice.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," he nodded.

"No he's not," Alan sighed. "He's not, I'm not, and I strongly suspect that you're not either, Don."

The two brothers stared at their father in open mouthed shock.

"Don't give me those looks, you two. We came very close to experiencing a great loss a few days ago, and we've all been too busy and shell-shocked to deal with it." Alan looked up and met his oldest son's gaze in the rearview mirror. "This family never wants to talk about feelings and emotions and that's just not healthy in an instance like this."

"Dad-"

"No, Donny," Alan shook his head. "I mean it. We have a seven hour drive ahead of us and we are going to spend it talking – really _talking_ – to each other." Seeing the reluctant looks on his sons' faces, he threatened, "I can drive even slower, you know. You two up for a ten or eleven hour road trip?"

"No," Charlie answered.

Don seriously doubted his father would put him through that in his current state, but figured if he felt that strongly about it the least he could do was humor him. "Okay, Dad. But you want to talk so you'd better start."

"Fair enough," the older man nodded. "I was flat-out terrified in that hotel. I just knew we wouldn't make it out of the elevator. I knew we'd be stuck there while…" His voice broke and Alan took a calming breath. "While you bled to death in front of us, Donny."

The agent's eyes widened. He hadn't realized that his father had been thinking that way back at the hotel.

"Then the aftershock hit and I was ready to give up, only it turned out to be a blessing."

"Yeah," Charlie joined in. "It dropped us just low enough to climb out of the elevator and into the hallway."

"And we still barely got out before the cab went plummeting down the shaft."

"It's weird," Charlie said as he studied a hangnail. "I felt almost invincible after that, you know? I mean, the odds were so against us and we beat them. I let that feeling go to my head."

"Invincible is right," Alan mumbled. "I _told_ you not to try those stairs."

"What stairs?" Don asked.

"We needed to get you help," Charlie stated, his voice dropping back to a soft whisper. "All of the stairwells were chained shut except one. We went down a floor and there was some damage. Dad told me not to, but… You were so sick, Don. I had to."

"Charlie," Don scolded. "You endangered yourself for me? I don't want you doing that."

"You do it for me – for complete strangers – everyday. How is this any different?"

"It's my job, Buddy. It's what I do."

"And I'm not supposed to return the favor?" Charlie demanded.

Don sighed and shook his head. "Tell you what – if I'm ever in danger of failing a math test or overdrawing my checking account-"

"Bad call," Alan interrupted him as he glanced at Charlie. "Checkbooks are not your brother's strong suit."

"One mistake that snowballed," the genius moaned. "And I've corrected my error. It won't happen again."

"Right." Alan rolled his eyes.

"You're telling me that you're perfect?" Charlie quirked an eyebrow. "Never overdrew your account?"

"I did one time, right after I married your mother. That's when we decided she was the financial head of household."

"Good ol' Mom," Don chuckled. He felt a sudden emptiness in his heart as he pictured her face… hovering in front of him in a dark motel room? "Mom," he breathed.

"Donny?" Alan called. "You okay?"

"You saw her," Charlie said, more a statement than a question. "In the motel room right before we were rescued. I heard you say her name."

"I did?" Don asked as he continued sorting through the images in his head. "I remember I saw her and I didn't hurt any more. I thought she'd come to take me away…" He covered his face with his hands and shook his head. "She said something to me."

"What?" Charlie eagerly inquired.

"I couldn't hear her," Don growled. "Everything around me was getting dark and she slipped away. Her lips were moving, but I couldn't hear her."

"It's okay," Alan soothed. "Don't force it, Donny. You'll remember when the time is right."

"I want to remember _now_," Don snapped. "I _need_ to remember now." He was startled by a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Charlie sitting beside him.

"Dad's right. Just let it come to you – don't force it."

"But…" Don trailed off. How could he explain how he felt? And did he want to?

"Don," Charlie whispered as he leaned against him. "Talk to me."

"She left me behind," the older man said, his voice barely audible.

"What?"

"She was there and I thought she was going to take me away with her." Don shivered and pressed back against Charlie who wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. "But… she left me."

Don heard both his father and brother gasp aloud right before Charlie hugged him even tighter. "Oh Don," he rocked his brother. "I'm sure that's not it. Mom would never leave you."

_Why not? You were her favorite,_ Don thought to himself. "That's why I need to know what she said," he replied. "So I'll know she didn't leave me alone." He paused and burrowed farther into Charlie's embrace. "I thought – knew – I was dying. I could feel you and Dad with me, but I was scared to move on until Mom showed up. And then she left me."

The brothers felt the van come to a halt and looked up at their father.

"Dad?" Charlie asked.

"Can you drive for a while, Charlie?"

"Me?" Charlie asked as he glanced nervously at Don.

"I have confidence in your abilities, son. And I want to talk to Don for a few minutes."

"Okay. Just remember – you asked for it." The young man climbed into the passenger seat until his father climbed into the back, then moved into the driver's seat and started the engine. He glanced over his shoulder, made sure his father and brother were both settled and slowly pulled back onto the road.

--

"You know your mother loved you, right?"

"I know, Dad," Don answered. "But I felt so abandoned."

"And you think knowing what she said to you will help?"

"Yeah," the agent admitted. "I know it's kind of stupid, because it was just a dream-"

"Why do you say that?" Alan cut him off.

"Well, she couldn't have been real, right?"

"I think," Alan began slowly. "I think your mother would make every attempt to be with you when it was your time. But this wasn't your time, was it?"

"No," Don shook his head. "It wasn't."

"You think maybe she knew that? That's what she was trying to tell you?"

"Maybe so. I just want to know for sure."

"Well," Alan spoke. "You can't force it. Why don't you just relax and rest and see what comes to you?" Without giving his son a chance to refuse, Alan pulled his head onto his shoulder and wrapped his arms around him.

"You don't have to hold me," Don told him, although there wasn't a trace of annoyance in his voice.

"I almost lost you, son. I need this more than you do right now."

"Okay." Don yawned and let his eyes slide shut. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too." The older man gently smoothed his son's hair as he listened to his breathing even out. Alan caught Charlie's eye in the rearview mirror and gave him a reassuring smile. "I think he'll be just fine now."

--

Pain. Pain all around him and filling his soul.

_Not again._

"Donny?"

He opened his eyes and blinked to adjust his vision in the darkness of the hotel room. "Mom?"

"Yes, son."

"Why do I hurt again?" he asked, hating the pleading tone in his voice. He let out a moan of pain, quickly quieting down as a warm hand rested on his shoulder. "Dad?"

"He's holding you, Donny."

"Right. I remember that now. I thought I was better."

"Don't worry sweetie, you _are_ better." Margaret sat beside him on the bed. "But you needed to see me, so you dreamt of this place again."

"Why?"

His mother laughed softly and shrugged. "You don't learn all the answers, even after you die."

He managed a weak grin. "Charlie's not going to like that."

"No he's not," the ghostly woman agreed. "So, do you know why you're here?"

Suddenly feeling ashamed, Don shifted his gaze away from his mother's face.

"Donny?" she prodded as she gripped his chin and made him look at her. "All you have to do is ask. I won't judge you."

"You left me," he whispered brokenly. "Why would you do that?"

"Did I leave you?"

"Before we were rescued," he told her. "I was so scared until I saw you. Then I knew I'd be okay because you would take care of me. But… but you left."

"Think back carefully, Donny. Really concentrate on the memory."

Don nodded and thought back, but refused to look away from his mother as he did, afraid she would vanish again.

"I'm not going anywhere until you're ready. _Think_, Donny."

The agent closed his eyes and tried to go back in time. He remembered waking up and there was no pain. He saw his mother and asked if she was there for him. She leaned close and whispered… only there had been a loud noise drowning her out. This time he recognized the sound as coming from the rescue vehicles around the hotel. The knowledge gave him the power to separate her voice from the background noise.

"It's not your time, Donny. I just wanted to make sure you knew that. You still have a long life to lead and a lot of love to share with your father and brother. I'll be keeping an eye on all of you." A pause and then, "They're coming for you now. Close your eyes and rest and you'll be safe soon."

Don opened his eyes and smiled. "Thanks, Mom."

"Anytime," she promised him as she leaned over, placed a kiss on his forehead and disappeared.

"Dad?" Don mumbled as he opened his eyes again – this time to the inside of the minivan.

"Are you okay, Donny?"

"She didn't leave me," he whispered happily. "I dreamed it and she told me I was going to be fine. That we were all going to be fine and she was going to be watching over us."

"That sounds like your mother," Alan nodded as his eyes blurred with tears.

"Yeah," Charlie spoke from the driver's seat. "Just like her."

"I know this sounds odd," Don began. "But I think that was the last thing I needed in order to get over this entire incident."

"I think it's what all of us needed," his father suggested. "Your mother was an incredible person in that way."

"She was." Don couldn't quite stifle a yawn and smiled as his father patted his shoulder.

"Get some sleep, Donny. I'll wake you when we're home."

Don smiled and let his eyes close. He drew comfort from his father's loving touch and the knowledge that his little brother was confidently guiding them home. And, of course, he drew the most comfort from the image of his mother watching over them – and trying not to laugh – as they made their way home in a small lavender minivan.

The End


End file.
